Proof of Existence
by Devilbladed
Summary: Prompto hadn't exactly been blessed with a normal childhood, but he had blessings all the same. His were a little more twisted than most, but above everything, he had a particular talent to eke out what light he could despite the darkness that surrounded him time and again. Prompto-centric, with other POVs on occasion. Canon Divergent.
1. Errand

**Author's Note:** To new and upcoming readers that may be coming across this work with no exposure to the previous fanfics that I'd published before this, I'd like to establish a few things regarding this story.

**(1)** You do not need to read _**Only You (And You Alone) **_or _**A Painted Face **_in order to understand this story. You can if you want, and if the summaries for the respective fics interest you. Keep in mind that those are branching stories based from this fic, so this actually serves to explain how the situations depicted in them come about, though it's not a 1:1 lead-in, and there are things that will be mentioned in Proof of Existence that didn't happen in the other two fics, or vice versa. For those that have _already_ read those fics: Congrats, you know what ships will be here (or teased), that Fabula Nova Crystallis lore will be present in this story, and there's more magic involved (think, _Final Fantasy XII_'s spells and skills) than basic Elemancy.

**(1.5)** Fabula Nova Crystallis lore will be present. Smut will _not_ be. Don't worry, the word count that would have gone to smut will likely be devoted instead to having a named character telling someone else to go shove something up an orifice, with said occurrence numbering once per chapter on average. I'm _positive_ that makes up for it.

**(2) **You might note from the word count of the first chapter alone minus this author's note, that I intend on making the story _long as heck_. As this is a canon-divergent rewrite of Final Fantasy XV that stemmed from the need to '_give Prompto a stronger character arc_', the story will be long and in a fairly decompressed style, detailed whenever possible to establish differences, and involves a lot of 'alternate interpretations' of characters to flesh them out within the bounds of existing characterization with a bit of bending to constitute further development. There will also be changes up to and including names in general, spellings of names like _Aurea _instead of _Aulea_, or terms such as _Priestess _instead of _Oracle_ \- the degrees of which will be evident by reading each chapter. Ardyn, for example, will be _different_. But that's all I will say about him.

**(3)** Because it's a rewrite, it _might_ be tempting to skip to the canon portions or the action-filled parts. **Don't. **The 'canon parts' won't be in the places you'd think they are, ex: the events of Chapter 4 in the game (Noctis undergoing the Trial of Titan) won't be _at _Chapter 4 of the story. Not just that, but things mentioned in earlier chapters are meant to pay off later on, and then further still. Even _I _don't know where those 'canon portions of the plot' might pop up, haha.

**(4) **This fic is intended to feature Promnis and NoctLuna, as the course of events in the story lead to their bonds growing stronger than they were at the start, and they start off pretty strong to begin with. If you read past the first chapter and by the end of the story you're still surprised those ships happened instead of something like Promptis or IgNoct or Noct with anyone **except** Luna or Prompto with anyone else except Ignis, I don't know what to tell you, except that I commend your imagination.

**Disclaimer:** I do not own any of the Final Fantasy XV characters nor any of the canon dialogue that is directly taken from the game, but the text and situations the characters go through, if not paying homage to other Final Fantasy games or outside media, are about as original as anything can be in this age. Basically, this fic is going to be 'stuff you may have read or seen before but in an order that you haven't yet'. Any similarities or relations to other stories are completely coincidental and frankly unfortunate.

On to the story.

* * *

**Chapter 1: Errand**

His boots sank into soft ground, and with each squelching step he kicked up spurts of water that were cold despite the afternoon sun. He faintly registered the wet slaps of footsteps alongside him, as his friend also splashed through the marshwater. The stray branches of shrubs snagged onto his clothes, but he shook them aside time and again and kept running.

Their target was _elusive, _but they wouldn't be for much longer.

Through shallow puddles and sheets of slate, he and his friend kept on. His lungs were starting to ache- they begged for more air than he was already giving them, but they would get their break soon, the strain would be over, he just had to…

_There it is! _Finally! Right in front of him! He took a running dive, arms outstretched, he could _swear _he almost caught it-

He caught the slap of webbed feet in his face as the frog leapt right onto and over him, and then he hit the water. He pulled himself out from the cold and wiped runny mud from his face, regaining just enough of his vision to spot his raven-haired friend slow to a stop next to him and hold out a hand for him to take.

"You okay, Prompto?"

Prompto took the hand offered. "I'm good. Thanks, Noct."

"No problem." Noct grinned. "Almost had it, though, right?"

"Yeah!" Prompto _would_ have better luck the next time, and with that in mind he picked up the chase again, after the red frog that was evading all four of the guys. Lack of trying had something to do with that, _really_; only he and Noctis were giving it their all and running full tilt after that agile amphibian, but Gladio and Ignis acted instead as if they had all day to chase for it.

"You're not gonna catch that thing if you're tired," Gladio said.

"But we _will _catch it, just you wait!" Prompto countered.

"And you're going to report back to Sania looking like _that?_" Bespectacled bystander though he was, Ignis would never skip the opportunity to chastise. He'd drop dead before that ever became a possibility.

The blond pouted- Ignis was so concerned with looking presentable, but who were they out to impress? Sure, Doctor Sania was Gladio's friend, but exactly that- _Gladio's _friend. Didn't _he_ have to be the one to worry about looking nice? Then again, Prompto figured he'd be pretty upset if anyone in his circle of friends showed up to Cindy looking like they'd crawled out of a sewer. … Okay, in that case, he got the point.

While Prompto was thinking that over, Noctis had chased the frog out into the water. The frog skimmed the surface of the pond as if it were frozen- if any of them were newer to the area, they'd have gotten the impression that the pond itself was nothing more than just a wide but shallow expanse of water, rather than something they could get stuck up to their knees in. Prompto had figured out that whole 'knees-getting-stuck' thing the hard way, days ago.

Noctis stopped just at the edge of the pond, and Prompto did the same, only this time he'd be as ready to brave that water as he could get.

"Alright, time to give it a whirl!" Small currents of energy drifted along his hands and between his fingers, the currents flickering with pinpricks of light as if there were bits of glass in it that caught the glint of the sun.

"Oh man, you're really gonna try that out _now?_" Noct was curious to see how this would play out, and the question was met with a grin from the blond.

"Why not? Iggy makes it look easy!"

"I do that with everything," Ignis commented.

"Yeah, so how hard can it be?" Using a _Float_ spell to hover above the ground wasn't exactly airship science, and he'd prove it. The current gathered enough strength that its flowing carried the whisper of a light breeze, and he figured that was long enough to charge it considering he went without an incantation to bolster its strength.

"Not a good idea," came Gladio's familiar baritone in warning. Noctis started to put some distance between himself and the epicenter of this particular spellcast.

Prompto didn't see what the big deal was, as he practically slapped the spell onto his shins, but when he went _heels over head_ as if the ground had been pulled out from under him, he saw the big deal. He saw it _clearly. _But on the bright side, he was floating exactly like the spell was meant to do. He just needed to get himself right-side up.

"A little help…?"

Having to look up (or was it down?) at Gladio from a lower angle than usual was _terrifying_; his eye level was barely up to Gladio's knees thanks to this magic, and he couldn't imagine genuinely being that short in front of someone so tall.

"Word of advice, there's some magic you can't cast directly on yourself."

Prompto would have pouted but instead grimaced at the dizzying feeling of blood rushing to his head. "Then how did Iggy…?"

He saw the approach of minorly sullied dress shoes. "For magicks such as that, what you must do instead is cast the spell on an _object,_ and then hold the object so that its properties transfer over."

"And you can't stack the effects, either," Gladio added. "Casting Float when you're already floating won't make you go any higher."

"Though I wish it would… it'd certainly give us all a break from you." Ignis must have pushed his glasses up, then. Prompto could practically _smell _the gesture.

The blond sniffled, _loudly, _to suggest he was close to tears_. _Ignis was unaffected, and walked away, his attention turned elsewhere.

Prompto found it best to change gears and steer the conversation away from the insult, then. "So… cast on object before holding object…" he echoed, "got it. So if I cast it on my clothes before putting them on-"

"You'd have to get naked first!" Noctis scampered past to deliver that comment. "If you wanna do that here, I'm not gonna judge, but I can't speak for everyone else!"

"That's… that's not what I meant!"

"_Suuuuure_ it's not," Noct teased.

"It's really _not!_ Is anyone gonna at least _try_ to help me get down?"

Gladio rolled his eyes. He wasn't the type to let such a comment go without a real response, though, and to make things even, he grabbed Prompto by the legs and started to shake him up and down.

Prompto flailed in an effort to catch the loose coins falling out of his pockets from the vigorous shakedown. "Hey, hey! This isn't helping!"

"Is too; making you less top-heavy, for one."

The clink of different denominations of money attracted Noctis back to where all the commotion was happening. "Ooh, where'd all this free gil come from?"

"Wh- that's mine!" Prompto swiped at Noctis while Noct ducked around and picked up all the fallen coins, and just when the blond thought he'd grab a handful of jet-black hair at the very least, his fingers swept through the ethereal remnant of an after-image.

"Hah!" Noctis had rolled away and out of that grasp. "Don't worry about the gil, I'll just have it for safekeeping." The coins went away in similar glints of crystalline light, as if they'd never existed.

"Still an asshole move, Noct!" Prompto would have complained more were it not for the sudden spin of his whole body that aligned his head and feet to their proper positions. He'd have kept spinning like a wheel if it hadn't been for Gladio stopping that with his strong hands.

"Wait a minute and it'll wear off." A better admission than any that Gladio didn't have anything handy to dispel the magic.

Prompto would take what he could get. "Sure thing."

Gladio cast a quick glance over his shoulder before addressing Prompto again. "Look, about Ignis…"

"Don't worry about it. I told you, I can handle it."

"Good." Gladio left him to float upright on his lonesome.

With all the fun they'd had at his predicament, the frog had _almost_ gone forgotten. Almost. Ignis walked along the edge of the pond with a pace that said he wasn't in any hurry, and he rolled a current of magic along his fingers as if it were a coin. The frog seemed to catch on to that and hopped across the surface in a similar way, but without the gesture of a spell gathering since it was a mostly magicant frog. The distance between each other didn't change.

If Prompto didn't know any better, he would think that the two were opponents sizing each other up before the real battle began.

He blinked and it was over.

The water burst from underneath the frog like a geyser and sent it spinning through the air. Quick gusts of wind from underneath it slowed its descent and made it look as if it still had enough actual surface to hop its way along, and then Ignis caught it out of the air when it got to a reasonable level. He returned to the group with the frog in his hands, and that thing looked too dazed to comprehend what just happened.

"As it turns out, the _Aero_ spell was perfect for our little friend. So you see, that really _wasn't _so difficult." The corner of Ignis's mouth had started to turn up in a smirk.

Prompto exhaled through his nose in irritation. "You could have done that… the _entire time._"

"Yes."

"And you didn't do it earlier, why?"

"I wanted to see how you'd fare on your own before I stepped in."

"Jerk."

"Call me whatever you like, but I got the job done."

"Can't argue against that," Noctis said, scratching the back of his head.

The Float spell had worn off from Prompto's system, and they checked that they had the full count of five frogs that Sania had asked for. Red frogs native to Alstor, and they had to scour the low and lowest of the Slough to complete this particular mission. Noctis was just hoping she would pay well for their efforts.

The four started to walk to where they had their car parked, but Prompto's trek in particular was stopped with a gloved hand to his chest to stop his advance, and a quirked eyebrow from the same guy that hand belonged to. "You are _not _getting into the Regalia like that," Ignis said.

Prompto looked down at the mud-crusted clothes. It wasn't like he was going to rub himself all over the seats. That'd be uncomfortable to start with. "The Regalia isn't _your _car, y'know."

"But I _am_ the one driving it, and as long as my hands are the ones on that steering wheel, I make the rules. You're going to clean yourself up, and that's that."

Prompto made a face, and began to head to the cover of shrubs and trees to make that change of clothes. An attempt to look more than halfway presentable had to be made, and Ignis followed to, if one believed his words, make sure that Prompto didn't somehow 'cheat' by turning his clothes inside out.

He left the dirty clothes in a pile at his side, and was busy with getting his feet into the correct pants legs when Ignis asked, "Is it too much?"

"Huh?" Prompto looked up from what he was doing; he didn't need to put too much attention to pulling up his leopard-print denims anyway. "Is what too much?"

Ignis mouthed, '_You know what I mean._'

That was answered with a roll of the blond's eyes and a little shake of his head, but no answer left his mouth while he put on a clean shirt and wrapped a sweater around his waist.

He and Ignis rejoined the others in the Regalia, and they reported back to Sania at the Alstor branch of Coernix Station. Fittingly, she rewarded them with treasure and not with gil outright. Noctis didn't mind, figuring it'd either be useful to wear, or fetch a good price at a shop somewhere.

Her study of frogs was important work, judging from the animated conversation she had with Gladio about it. The frogs were showing strange mutations now that the nights were getting longer, the nights were getting longer for a reason no one knew for sure yet, so no one knew why it was happening but they noted it as a phenomenon all the same, and they noted it back when Sania's grandfather was out treasure hunting back in his day.

It wasn't a sharp change by any means, so much as it was a case of little things adding up, and a trend to track. When looking at the trend at a distance, the longest days used to last fifteen hours, give or take a few minutes, and over the course of decades there was a steady decline to the present day, where the day lasted only _eight _hours before the darkness settled. Though the settling took its time: between the sun being up and the moon doing the same, what _really _got longer were the sunrises and sunsets- at least, that's what it looked like to the regular person. The skies were murkier, a rusted and sad reddish brown.

That was all useful to know, but they weren't talking solely about the longer nights. No, it just so happened that Gladio and Sania could talk about the single topic of _frogs_ until everyone else was dizzy, or maybe that was just the effect they had on Prompto. Prompto felt his blinks getting longer and longer, and he shook his head quickly to get rid of that feeling. He let himself look elsewhere and spotted Noctis seated at a nearby table, resting his chin in his hands, a dreamy gaze focused on exactly the two people that Prompto was trying not to listen to anymore, though it was hard to tell if Noctis's interest was in Gladio, in Sania, in the topic of frogs ( probably _that_, the weirdo ), or a combination of those three things.

He wouldn't be any help, so Prompto looked across from the diner, to the billboard advertising the EXINERIS Power Plant. Ignis had parked the Regalia just in front of the sign, and he was there reviewing what was in the trunk of the car. Maybe he'd need some help, but even if not, Prompto needed a conversation, so he went over.

"Any plans?"

Ignis put away a lantern; he'd just finished a check on the oil levels and wick lengths of all of them. "None of my own, no. Gladiolus had planned on us camping at a haven."

"What?" Prompto made a face, and pointed over his shoulder to something a ways off. "But there's a caravan we can stay at, right over there."

"That caravan _right over there_ costs gil that we'd best save for another, more necessary occasion."

"Got a point, but I still don't like it."

Ignis closed the trunk, and focused his full attention on Prompto. "Would _you_ be willing to tell him that he wasted his time packing these camping supplies?"

Prompto looked skeptical of the tone in that proposition. "You make it sound like you care."

"I _don't_. I'm merely wondering if you've got it in you to make him feel bad."

"Anyone ever tell you you're pretty cold?"

"No, in fact, I hear I'm quite warm to the touch."

"You have a counter for everything, don't you."

"It may surprise you to learn that I don't, and you'll only find me doing this on two occasions."

"Which are…?"

"When it amuses me_, _and when it _annoys you. _How fortunate that I can achieve both at the same time."

"Again, you're a jerk."

"And again, call me whatever you like. It doesn't change what I actually am."

Prompto couldn't fight the smile coming up on his face. "It doesn't."

Ignis toned down the smugness to a seven, on a scale that only went up to five. "I thought not."

The Regalia didn't need them looking around in it anymore, so they took a stroll towards the oil stations, away from the other three. Prompto easily kept stride with Ignis, given that the brunet had weeks ago mastered the art of walking around _without _the urgency of having someplace else to be, a change from the habits he'd had to adopt back in their home city of Insomnia.

"I was being serious back there," Ignis said. "Do you think my comments are too harsh?"

Prompto tilted his head, wondering what had brought that question out.

Ignis gave a faint shake of his head, a smile just as slight on his features. "It's an odd question, I know. But I do wonder. I'm aware of how I come across— liberal applications of sarcasm here and there, a snappy remark whenever you do something inadvisable… but I want to know from you if it's too much. Do you ever think I get carried away, or cross a line?"

Prompto cast his gaze along the ground near his feet, and a smile crept up. "Looks like I gotta clear this up for you." He got ahead of Ignis, then turned around so he was walking backwards and the two of them were facing each other. "You are who you are," he motioned towards Ignis, "and I am who I am," he gestured to himself. "And sure, I'm new to the whole Crownsguard thing, I didn't work my way up from the Junior rank like you and Gladio, but don't worry about it." He shrugged. "Don't let me being me stop you from being you. You gotta treat me the same as you do everyone else, and that's the point, right?"

Ignis gave it some consideration.

Prompto took that silence for himself to add, "Fine, I'll admit, you're a total hardass sometimes, but I wouldn't hold that against you. You're _usually_ pretty nice, so you're allowed less-than-nice moments. Wouldn't be here if I couldn't handle something that simple, right?"

"Figures that _you_ would say that." There was an edge of knowing to those words.

"Hey, what's that supposed to mean?"

"It means that you're _right_, and I shouldn't have asked this line of question in the first place. I'd made the mistake of underestimating you once before."

"_More_ than once," the blond corrected with a sly grin.

If it were true, Ignis wouldn't admit it to that extent, but they both knew what was up, and Prompto was sure that Ignis was thinking specifically of the day when Prompto was officially instated as a Crownsguard member and was to meet Ignis and Gladio. Meeting Gladio didn't start out too well but had smoothed out into something workable. Meeting Ignis then was another thing entirely.

Ignis was doing _the_ _usual, _as Gladio described it. He was curt with his speech, and often his eyes wandered Prompto up and down before catching his gaze and holding it. He was calling the blond's bluff before a word was even thought of to challenge at all.

Prompto knew it wouldn't look good to act as if he had this under control already, being new to the group. So he went over to Gladio. _"What's his deal?"_

'_Don't worry about him, he does that to every new guy.'_

'_Every…?'_

Gladio nodded, and let out a short huff of air as he brought up recent memory. '_His Highness's retinue would be a lot bigger, but it's really just us three. He's got a hell of a guard._'

Prompto looked up to Gladio, brows knitted in question, and he raised a finger to point at the taller man. '_But aren't __**you**__…?_'

'_Don't even ask. My family, the Amicitias, we're the King's sworn shields. I'm the Prince's shield for now, my father is his father's shield, and their fathers had the same thing going on. That's the way it's always been. But _he_,_' Gladio pointed to Ignis, '_met Noctis first, before I did. Personally appointed by King Regis to be Noct's retainer, at the request of Auctus Scientia._'

'_Who's Auctus?_'

'_Ignis's uncle, part of the King's council._'

Prompto mouthed '_Oh,_' and nodded.

'_Mmhmm. So ever since then, he's taken that job seriously. About a half dozen of Noct's classmates tried joining this group just off the fact that they knew him, but you'd better believe Iggy was holding them to a high standard. Tries to meet 'em as soon as possible and nip their delusions in the bud, you could say. I guess after they dropped out, eventually the rumor went around for the rest to stop trying. You got off lucky though; seems like he didn't find out you were with us until just recently._'

'_Sounds intense._'

'_**He's** intense._' Gladio smirked. '_So what are you gonna do about it? He's not gonna let up until you prove yourself somehow. Could take you months, could take you years._'

Prompto considered his options. Making a move here wouldn't be too out of place now that Gladio had suggested in that direction. If anyone asked, he was following the Shield's advice.

So he straightened his posture the most he could, and turned around to face Ignis. '_Hey, Specs!_'

Ignis was in the middle of pouring himself a cup of Ebony coffee. He stopped that and set the pot down, sensing that _he_ was the one being addressed by such a _courteous_ nickname, but not feeling any bit obliged to entertain that notion with a word just yet.

Prompto tossed out an inverted nod in challenge. '_You really gonna stand there?_'

Ignis turned to face him completely with literal tongue in cheek, giving the blond a much _slower _once-over from toes to tip-top. '_What do you mean?_' He brought the cup to his lips, and didn't break eye contact.

That was met with a scoff. '_I **mean**,_' Prompto was just as deliberate when he curled his finger in a beckoning motion, '_quit stripping me with your eyes, get over here, and do it with your **teeth** instead. Put your mouth to good use._'

There was a judder to Ignis's fingers that would have shaken the coffee right onto his shirt, but his restraint aside from that was impressive. He set the cup down as if nothing else was the matter and broke their gazes for that brief moment. Then he looked up again, eyes narrowed and tongue in cheek once more, and then turned to walk away.

Prompto didn't know what to make of it until Gladio clapped him on the shoulder. '_Congrats, newbie. It's gonna take years._'

The confident smile wasn't out of place. '_I can handle that._'

He did that about as well as one would expect across those next couple of years, and on some mornings the same smile from before would come back on his face and be met with a roll of the eyes and quiet little smirk of recognition from the retainer.

Ignis was so _sure_ he could have won that were it a direct challenge for a battle. Prompto played his move too well.

But he still wouldn't admit it aloud, though. "No, I'm certain it was _only_ once."

"Uh huh. Keep sleeping on that side, Iggy." Confusion flit across Ignis's face and Prompto added, "...It's a saying."

"Such funny idioms you have."

"Got 'em from Mom and Dad, who, by the way, totally not throwing this in your face or anything, sound like they miss _you _more than they miss _me_."

"And that's supposed to be _my _fault?"

"Yeah!? Or, _no?_ I mean… Geez, why are you so _you?_"

"Hm… Must be my upbringing."

"Yeah, it must be," Prompto agreed after a few seconds of thought.

( Noctis was still seated at the plastic table situated outside the Crow's Nest Diner. His attention wasn't on Gladio and Sania anymore; she had other research to conduct, so their conversation was over.

He was looking in the direction of Prompto and Ignis, as they walked beyond the gas station.

"Hey, whaddya think they're talking about?"

Gladio shrugged. "Prompto's probably getting some more pointers on magic. He needs it, poor thing."

"Huh… yeah, he does," Noct agreed with a vague smile. )

"Then I suppose it's time we let them know how we're doing." Ignis was _not _going to correct that to '_how __**I'm**__ doing_', no matter how high Prompto raised an eyebrow at hearing 'we'. '_We_' sounded like too many people involved.

Prompto pulled out his phone to check its charge and what service was available out here. The former was good, the latter not so much. "Tomorrow, maybe we'll be closer to civilization."

"We'll find the time then, certainly."

"Mmhmm." Prompto looked back to where he expected the others to still be, but instead he saw Noctis and Gladio looking right in their direction. He made close enough eye contact with Noct that Noct's expression brightened more than it already was and he waved at them.

"I think they want us back over there," he told Ignis.

"Best for us to heed that call. He has that look about him that suggests he's planning something."

Just as Ignis said, Noctis did have such a look, and waited until they were close enough before he conjured a map and laid it out on the table. He slapped an overlay on top of that so that he was free to mark up suggested routes without turning the map itself into a mess.

"So, we're here," he circled Coernix station, "Obviously. And Gladio had going to a haven in mind. Thing is, there are a bunch of them." He circled seven havens that were within a thirty-mile radius of the station.

Prompto clapped his hands together as if to pat them clean of invisible dust. "Well, guess if we can't decide on _which _haven to go to, we shouldn't go to one at all. Caravan time!"

Noctis fought back a laugh. "Aw, come on. What's wrong with camping?"

"Everything!" Prompto pouted. "Those sleeping bags cramp me up; I feel like I'm suffocating in 'em, and mine's never comfy enough for me to not feel the ground underneath. It's gross."

"You get to sleep _outside _the tent and on the grass instead of the haven, then. Problem solved," Gladio grumbled.

Ignis rolled his eyes but did nothing to allay his smirk. "The tent _would _be roomier without Prompto in it, that's for certain."

Prompto shot Ignis a disapproving frown. "Yeah, making 'more room' by taking out the little guy instead of the _tree_ over here," he gestured to Gladio, "that's logical."

"You'll manage," Ignis assured him. "You're squirrely enough to find _another _tree to climb on, if that's your concern."

"I'm really hearing that 'squirrel' comparison from the guy that's on everybody's nuts? Is that what's going on here?"

"I'll tell you what's going on-"

By this point, while the blond and brunet bickered, Gladio covered his face with his palm like _that_ would hide him from the unfolding spat, but he briefly removed his hand to mouth to Noctis, '_When the hell are these two gonna marry each other already?_'

Noctis put a hand over his mouth to fake a pensive look that was just there to conceal his ear-to-ear grin. He answered Gladio with a shake of his head and a shrug, but aloud he said to the others, "Okay, okay you guys, quit it for the next… five minutes." That was a _generous_ estimate for how long the two could keep quiet without another topic to go off about. On any given moment they got along like oil and water, and it was hard to tell when that combination would spill. "I figured I'd make things easy for everyone." He pointed to a haven south of the station. "We'll set up camp here, in Alsace."

Prompto's look brightened, while Ignis's did just the opposite.

"That's close to Wiz's!" Prompto was an out-loud victory fanfare away from declaring his battle won ten paces before anyone realized he changed targets.

Ignis let out a sound of blatant reproval, though knowing him, it was hard to tell if it was just because Prompto liked going to the chocobo post to begin with, or because of what Prompto going to the chocobo post would translate to afterward.

The blond gave a shrug as if to say '_Well, whatever_' to that noise, and strolled his way over to the Regalia ahead of the others. As he left, he whistled the the positively jaunty notes of the chocobo theme.

Once he was out of earshot, Noctis motioned with his hands to smooth out some invisible wrinkles. "See that? No complaint about camping. To gain something, you gotta offer up something of equal value."

Gladio gave a sage nod. "Equivalent exchange."

"You got it."

Noctis and Gladio bumped fists.

Ignis's gaze flit back and forth between the two of them. "I'm at a loss as to how this was in any way an effective trade."

Noctis tilted his head in just the slightest in Gladio's direction. "Real quick, what do silence and chocobo feathers have in common?"

"They're golden."

"Got it again."

Another fist bump.

The show of camaraderie between Prince and Shield was all well and good, but Ignis pinched the bridge of his nose in pre-emptive exasperation. "He's going to go there, and he's going to come back to us _reeking_ of chocobos."

"Come on, Iggy, let him have his fun." Noctis put away the overlay and the map.

Whatever Ignis was going to start his response with got choked back, and he tried again. "_You're_ not the one he sits next to in the car."

"We'll put him in the back seat."

"Oh no, you're not putting him anywhere near me," Gladio said with a shake of his head. "Shove him in the trunk, for all I care."

"Can't, your stuff is in there."

"So's yours. Why'd you bring all those boxes with you, anyway?"

Noctis's mouth pressed to a tight line. "Sentimental value," he said simply.

"You kidding? All those notebooks wouldn't just grow legs and walk off while you're gone, Noct, you could've just left them where they were." Gladio let out a '_Hmph_' and crossed his arms. "We're going back to Insomnia after we're done, anyway."

Noct went back to resting his chin in his hands. "I know, but I couldn't just leave 'em."

"Perhaps Prompto isn't the _only _one who should be allowed to have some entertainment." Ignis adjusted his glasses with a push of his finger. "Man wasn't meant to subsist off of pinball machines alone, or _at all_."

"Point taken. Between Justice Monsters Five and all those letters from someone he hasn't seen in twelve years, the letters at least keep him quiet," Gladio mused aloud, _much _to Noct's chagrin.

"Yeah, you say that," Noct regarded his bodyguard with an impudent tilt of his chin, "because you're jealous."

"Tch. What would a scrawny runt like you have for _me_ to be jealous about?"

"I thought you were following this conversation, but let me spell it out: an actual girlfriend."

"Also known as, someone that can stand talking to you for longer than a minute," Ignis added, with such sharpness to that barb that it left both Noctis and Gladio reeling and trying to figure out which of them had been on the receiving end.

Gladio was sure Noctis had received the lion's share of the insult. "He just said you had low standards."

Noctis was sure that it was Gladio. "What, you're just gonna stand there and let him say you got no game at all?"

Ignis made his way to the Regalia while Noctis and Gladio got into a back-and-forth about what constituted '_having a girlfriend_' and if a pen pal could ever count as one with such long distance. Noct _would _insist as he usually did that having a consistent conversational partner was better than making passes at random women that would never go anywhere, but Gladio was a man of habit, and couldn't be moved to give up his particular one of flirting.

Of course with the retainer knowing all of this, he had thrown the initial spark and back-stepped out of the conflagration of a conversation entirely, completely forgotten by the two in their debate, ensuring that he was the real winner of this, as he was always. He so loved his particular talent for inciting these types of situations.

"_Man, _you're good," Prompto commented.

Ignis got himself situated in the driver's seat. "Stating the obvious. And anyway, you come pretty close yourself."

"Oh, is one _Ignis Scientia _admitting defeat?"

Ignis wasn't looking _at _Prompto, but he could _hear _the grin in that question. "I'm saying the competition is real, which is different than 'admitting defeat'."

"Admit _this_, then; the way I flipped the 'squirrely' line nearly killed you."

"Nearly _killed?_ That was barely a graze."

"You say that," Prompto said with a hum of amusement, "but I don't believe you."

"Believe what you like." Ignis allowed Prompto a quick glimpse of a smirk before putting it away as Noctis and Gladio were approaching the car, and they were _still _talking at each other.

"I'm telling you, you've just got a case of wanting what you don't have." Noctis got into the backseat and shifted enough that Gladio could get in after him.

"And _you've _got a case of flaunting what you don't got."

"Nah, pretty sure I've got it. But not to worry," Noct patted Gladio on the shoulder, "you'll find someone to make an honest man out of you. Sometime _before_ you die of old age."

Gladio shrugged those pats away and brushed his shoulder off for good measure. "M'already honest."

Ignis got Prompto's attention and mouthed, '_You see what I have to deal with?_' and started up the car to head for Alsace Haven.

The ride was relatively quiet, as Gladio had busied himself with the King Optimus Version of _Origin of the Stars_, and Noct had snuck in a power nap. Prompto, in the meanwhile, thought it apt to lean over to Ignis and whistle the chocobo theme until he got a glare in his direction.

"Eyes on the road, Iggy," Prompto teased.

It was rinse and repeat of that, until they all received the sign that Noctis woke from his nap. Said sign was, paradoxically, a yawn that escaped through the gaps in his fingers, and he rubbed at his eyes afterward.

"We there yet?"

"Almost," Ignis replied.

"Cool, cool… any idea of what we're having for dinner?"

"I'll think of something when we arrive." His gaze flit to the passenger on his right. "Curious… is there not an eatery attached to the chocobo post?"

Prompto wasn't taking _that _bait, though. "Cheating your way out of dinner? For _shame, _Iggy. You wanted to save money by not using the caravan, so we can save more with some at-camp cooking!"

"Ooh, watch what you say, Prompto," Noct said with a laugh, "he might think of roasting _you _over the fire."

Gladio looked up from his book. "Nah, wouldn't be satisfying. Guy's got no meat on him."

Prompto shot an offended look over his shoulder. "No-? Have you _seen _these arms?" He flexed to demonstrate his biceps.

"I have. They're nothin' to write home about."

"Psh." The blond faced forward in his seat, a frown forming on his features. "Figures it'd come from you. You're all bulk and no flavor. I'm more of the gamey type. Rich, flavorful, _and _packed with all the vitamins you'd ever need."

"You sure about that? I'd say_ I'd_ be a more satisfying mouthful."

"To anyone with _shit taste_, you sure are. But I wouldn't eat _you_ if I were starving and you were the last thing on earth."

"Fine by me. I'd be too much for you anyway. You'd choke."

Noctis let out a laugh with all the mirth of a madman, and it was just a Noct thing to do; the funnier something was to him, the more _maniacal_ his laughter sounded to untrained ears. The ultimate sign that something tickled every bone in his body was a laugh more appropriate for a despot that had hatched a flawless assassination plot that'd be reported in the papers as an accident.

Ignis, in contrast to finding humor in the conversation as Noctis had, instead flattened his mouth into a tense line and looked like he wanted to be anywhere else _except_ in that car.

"Please let this conversation still be on the topic of _cannibalism..._"

"Oh, yeah, totally," Prompto said.

"The family-friendly kind," Gladio said.

"But if we're really having Prompto for dinner, I'll have his liver with some fava beans, and a nice Chianti," Noctis said, though not like himself. His voice had turned cold and precise, metallic in tone.

That made Gladio look over in his direction with actual startlement. Noctis met his gaze and answered him with creepy hissing. Gladio moved over to the furthest end of the back seat, away from him, while Prompto fumbled for his seat belt buckle and pondered a dive roll out of the car.

Noct slumped back in his seat and let his head loll back. "Ugh, you guys have never seen that movie." To say he was disappointed was an understatement.

"No!?" Prompto sounded more rattled than usual at the knowledge of where such words would have originated from. "Why would I wanna watch a movie about a guy that eats people?" His gaze darted to the road ahead of them and the road they were going past as he gauged his chances on that dive.

The tension seemed to trade bodies between driver and passenger; Ignis released a breath he hadn't realized he'd been holding, and straightened with a slow blink of his eyes. "You fly back to school now, little Starling. Fly, fly, fly…" he said, adopting the same tone that Noctis held.

Prompto's hand shot to his mouth to stifle a yelp. First off, he expected Noctis to be a weirdo, but Ignis imitating some cannibal guy's voice, fictional or not, was _not cool._ Second, well, come to think of it, Ignis didn't _deny _wanting to cook Prompto for dinner. And he even spoke to confirm that the topic was _about _people-eating before actually joining in the conversation. Prompto was starting to regret ever partaking in this talk; he might as well have slathered butter all over himself with every word out of his mouth. Third, where the _hell _did Ignis's accent go for that line?

Noctis wasn't nearly as taken aback by any of those points- in fact, he didn't even skip a beat. "A man of culture, I see!" He stuck a hand forward at the same time Ignis reached his own hand toward the back, meeting at the middle for a high-five.

Gladio shook his head, as if he thought Ignis better than the type to entertain Noct's antics. Prompto muttered something that sounded suspiciously like '_You two are the worst_' while Noctis and Ignis shared a laugh between themselves.

At the end of the ride, for reasons that in Prompto's mind amounted to some form of psychological torture, Ignis parked the car right _at _Wiz's Chocobo Post, perhaps to rub it in the more hungry passengers' faces that they _could have_ had food right there, but they _wouldn't,_ and just as they expected Ignis to cook, Ignis expected _them_ to **earn** their appetite by running full tilt to the haven first, and then further by helping him set up.

They opened the trunk of the Regalia and took the camping equipment, then whisked it away into the warp space to carry it without the physical effort.

Prompto booked it to the haven with courier speed right after, regarding the Post's proprietor with a wave and a "_We'll be back later!_" The old man Wiz Forlane waved back, and kept his hand up as the others jogged by and gave their own salutations. He had himself a good chuckle at those boys.

The four kept at that pace toward the campsite, blocked briefly by the slopes of rock that reduced a straight-line path to something closer to _impossible_, and would make a sensible person run around such a thing and grouse about the longer route toward the person that put them there.

Key word being,

_sensible _person.

Prompto was no such thing.

"Guys, I didn't realize he woke up in Beast Mode," Noctis said to Ignis and Gladio, who were flanked at either side of him. They watched while Prompto clambered up the rock face and pulled himself up just when he seemed a hair's breadth from an awful drop.

The blond spared a few precious seconds to look down at the others. "You guys gonna get up here, or not?"

"We'll… go around. Yeah." Noctis traced a semicircle with his finger.

"Pff. Loser." Prompto kept on climbing.

Noctis smiled, though his friend wouldn't be able to see it. "That's fair."

They were on their way around, when Gladio asked, "Maybe my ears weren't working right back there… did Prompto really call you a _loser?_"

"Yeah! Not a surprise, though. He called me an 'asshole' right in front of you guys, once. Truth is, though, we go way back, all the way since… _psych. _Not telling you when we met. That's something we're keeping between us. All you all need to know is, I met him before any of you did, anyway."

Ignis acknowledged that detail with a '_hrm'_.

Soon, they heard a breathless '_Oh, sh-!_' and not long after was the thud of a body hitting the ground, followed by a pained whine.

Noctis picked up his pace as soon as he heard. "Crap, looks like Jack fell down."

Ignis remained undisturbed. "Let's hope he didn't break his crown." Though he sounded like either possibility was all the same thing to him.

At the other side of the rocks, they found Prompto sucking down the last dregs of a potion, nothing much to show for his injury save sparse tears in his clothes and vague scuff marks. He made a face at the slightly bitter taste of the drink, but took it all the same and wiped his mouth with his arm.

"Did… did any of you get the number of that thing?" he asked.

"What thing?" Gladio looked around and motioned at the relative emptiness of their surroundings for good measure. Nothing but trees and rocks and fog around them all. "We just heard you and came running."

"We were running _anyway, _but your stunt provided more incentive," Ignis corrected.

Prompto made a noise of disbelief, and pulled himself up to his feet. "You guys wouldn't believe this- it was some… _horse_ thing."

"A… horse thing?" Ignis raised an eyebrow.

That got him a vigorous nod in return. "Yeah! A… it was pink! And starry, and, and it had a gold mane and-"

"You're right. I _don't _believe you. Moreover, you _must _have hit your head on something." Ignis stepped toward Prompto. "I'll check up on you right now." He was _not _going to take no for an answer on this one.

But he'd have to, for Prompto stepped away. "No, I mean it! I saw the thing, it was like it came from another world or… yeah, that's exactly what it was. It must have been from Mars!"

"A starry golden horse thing from Mars," Gladio repeated. He didn't find Prompto's words remotely plausible either. "Gonna need any help catching him, Iggy?"

Ignis had just finished _almost _having Prompto in his grasp. "I'll let you know when I need you." The blond was a slippery one, but he wouldn't admit it.

( Noctis felt something brush against his left side and nuzzle into his pockets. "Huh...?" )

Prompto darted behind a tree. "You guys gotta believe me! I'm not crazy!"

"You're not," Noctis said. "I know _exactly _what you're talking about."

That made them all stop and look. They _all _thought Noct was joking and expected the confirmation that he was kidding. He wasn't. He was threading his fingers along the silken golden mane of a spindly-legged… _horse-thing._

The interesting part wasn't what Prompto had said about it, but what he _didn't _say. The horse didn't just have pink horsehide, it was a fairytale shade of pink. It had an eight-pointed star dead center on its forehead, and it was wearing a… was that a purple vest? Yes, a purple vest, with classic five-point stars. And instead of a normal tail, it had the head and neck of a guitar sticking from its hind.

Ignis took off his glasses, blinked at the creature with his bare eyes as he wiped the lenses clean, then put his glasses back on. What he saw didn't change. "Prompto, did you slip anything at all in my drink this morning?"

"No…? Wait, _hey! _Why would you accuse _me_ of doing that?"

"Because you'd be the only one stupid enough to try it."

"How would we all be hallucinating the same thing?" Gladio posited. "And how would _Noct _be able to touch it?"

"I'll get back to you on that."

The fawn-sized equine pranced around the prince in circles, but when Noctis stepped toward it, it hopped back. He gave a half-hearted chase and had it bounding around the field, until it got the idea to turn around and hop its way towards Noct and chase _him _instead. He caught on to the game and kept it from catching him for a good few seconds until a quick stop on his part caused it to bowl him over with its deceptively tiny frame. It curled up atop his lap and nuzzled into his gloved hand, and he laughed and stroked its mane again. He tried to initiate a conversation with it as if it were a normal person, introducing himself to it and everything.

Meanwhile, the others debated the reality of what it was they were seeing. Or, at least Ignis and Gladio were pondering. Prompto pulled out his phone and thumbed through the camera app for a quick photo. He snapped the picture, but the flash from the camera made the starry horse look up in the others' direction, alert in the seconds between that and it bounding away.

Noctis watched it leave, and then cast a disappointed look at Prompto. "You scared it!"

"Sorry…" Prompto put his phone away.

Gladio shrugged. "It would have left at some point anyway, but at least we have it captured somewhere."

"Agreed. We wouldn't-" Ignis felt the need to wipe at his glasses again and make _very sure _there was nothing altering his sight more than necessary, "wouldn't be able to stay here for however long that creature would take to leave naturally. The night will fall sooner than we think, and in this wood..." he motioned around, letting the mist around them speak for itself.

Gladio nodded in agreement to that, and went over to Noctis to help him back to his feet. "So, get anything out of it, Dances-With-Horses?"

"Hah!" Noct grinned. "I think I might've gotten its name."

"What, seriously?"

"Well, not like it just said 'Hi, I'm So-and-so', but it kept making a noise at me. Uh, 'Jigi'...? Something like that."

"Jigi?" Gladio curled his fingers along his chin in thought. While naming a creature after the noise it would make was _also _a Noct thing to do, something about this sound was familiar. "Might've heard of it before, but can't remember it off the top of my head. I'll look it up."

"Or we could check if Wiz knows anything about it!" Prompto piped up. "His place is near here, after all."

"That too."

"We're to set up camp first. The reconnaissance can happen later." Ignis pinched the bridge of his nose; he sounded like the events of the last minute alone required he take a week hiatus from anything of note.

"Yes, sir." Prompto gave him a quick salute, and they all headed at a normal pace toward the haven, no hurried clambers over precarious surfaces or encounters with wild things needed. Prompto fiddled with his phone on the way there, and put it aside when it was time to set up the tent and prop the chairs up.

He'd completely forgotten about his hunger until the smell of peppered daggerquill breast hit him, and he got close enough to the stove that Ignis had to nudge him away with his elbow in the hopes it'd get him to wait until the dinner was actually done.

"Have you never heard of personal space, Prompto?"

"Mmhhh… maybe, once or twice," the blond whined.

"You should have at least heard of _patience_. You'd do well to practice it, by sitting quietly, over there." Ignis motioned to the chairs.

"But I want my food _now_."

"You're welcome to it, if you have a taste for undercooked meals."

Another whine, and Prompto retreated to join the rest of the group. He pulled out his phone again with a plan to mess around with a few of the games he had installed, but the notice that flashed on his screen made the wait more worth it.

"Hey, I got a message back from Wiz!"

"The old man knows how to use one of these?" Noctis leaned to the side to get a better look at Prompto's screen.

"Well, if not him, then _somebody_ knows, and that's all that matters." He read over the message - and ignored a complaint from Noctis that the photo he'd sent of him and the horse was totally unflattering. "Alright… says here that what you just saw was a '_Gighee_'. Sightings are rare, since the Gighee can only be seen by…" He squinted at the screen- "'Chosen Ones', great kings, virgins, or children."

_Everyone_ looked at Noctis.

Noctis sighed deeply, but didn't take his eyes away from the phone screen. "Alright, I'll bite. Why do I feel eight eyes on me?"

"Very _funny, _Noct," Ignis said.

"I'm _hilarious_, thanks for noticing."

"To answer the question, you're not a 'Chosen One'..." Ignis began.

"Not a 'great king', yet..." Gladio continued.

"And obviously not a child!" Prompto finished.

Noctis looked at Prompto, then at everyone else. "So what do all of _you_ count as?" He may as well have been tossed into a bucket, because he was feeling awfully _crabby._

Ignis shrugged. "Perhaps sharing your magic with us allows us to see things that we otherwise wouldn't."

"Prompto saw the Gighee first!"

"Yeah, for like, a second!" The blond raised his hands as if to defend and distance himself from whatever accusation that was. "It stuck around for _you _for some reason, and we're all real sure of why."

Noct huffed and muttered under his breath, "Why does it sound like a bad thing coming from you guys…?" Still, he allowed himself a few minutes to shake off the funk he was in, then said, "So, now that we know what this is, what do we do about it?" He looked over to Gladio's direction, seeing as he was the consummate huntsman of the party.

Gladio shrugged a shoulder and took a sip of his drink. "Nothing. It hasn't done anything except frolic around in some fog and show up to play games, I guess."

The logic was sound; no need to get rid of something that wasn't an actual danger except accidentally, in the case of Prompto's fall.

After that was resolved, the dinner was finished and set on the table. Each of them went to get their plate, and they ate in relative quiet. Predictably, Noct began to feel drowsy post-dinner and retreated to the tent to go sleep, tossing an already drowse-laden protest of '_Meh, I'll do it tomorrow,_' when Ignis advised him that he needed to brush his teeth before he conked out for the rest of the evening.

Gladio didn't skip the chance for personal maintenance, and got in some nighttime exercise to unwind, as well. He joined Noctis in the tent when he was finished, intent on getting enough rest to rise either with the sun or before it.

That left Ignis and Prompto alone by the campfire, with Ignis taking inventory of what ingredients and other materials they had or needed. He was rather meticulous about it, and would search through their medical kits as well, to check for what ointments or salves or oils he was missing.

"I used a regular Potion," Prompto said, to be helpful.

"Ah, I can make another in the morning then. Won't take me any time at all. Thank you."

"Mhmm."

For everything else that Ignis _couldn't _just replace after sunrise, he took note of what ingredients to pick up during their travels to complete their inventory.

Potions themselves were as simple as collecting some herbs and mushrooms, then crushing and boiling them in fresh water until they dissolved. Though, 'regular' was a misnomer. The _truly _normal ones were awesome enough on their own to be included in first aid kits sold in stores; it was a boost to the natural healing process, but with Noctis sharing his magic with his friends, that put the recovery from one of _those _on fast forward.

The magic didn't express itself in the outright ability to heal other people beyond pulling them out of a critical condition, though. Healing others all the way was best left to someone or something else.

While Ignis was checking through all that, Prompto inched closer to him, seat and all.

"So... '_Starling_', huh?"

"Mm?" Ignis paused and looked up from what he was doing.

"Earlier, when you made that quote in the car. You called me a 'little Starling'. I think I've seen one of those before. They're like…" Prompto motioned with his hands as to their diminutive size, "they're like blackbirds, right?"

"Ah, yes. They are. They're in the same family, if I recall."

A grin broke out on Prompto's face that he actually tried to hide, and the sight of it caused a flicker of a smile to show on Ignis's face in turn. "Come, now. What's gotten you behaving that way, playing coy?"

"Nothing much, just," Prompto paused to play with a lock of hair by his ears, "reminds me of home. Mom would call me her 'little Blackbird'."

"Ah..." Ignis couldn't help the note of intrigue. "Why liken you to a 'blackbird' and not…?"

"Not a chocobo?" A short laugh. "Low hanging fruit, there. Everyone else would think of calling me 'chocobo'." He played then with a lock of hair falling in front of his eyes, the color allusion enough to the bird everyone would think of. "Blackbird is something else. It's special. Mom told me she and Dad saw them for days before I showed up into their lives. Like the birds were trying to deliver the good news."

The corner of Ignis's mouth pulled up in amusement. "How curious… as children, we're told that storks deliver us to our parents. And you were brought to yours by blackbirds instead. Too good for a normal delivery, I take it?"

"What can I say? I _am_ pretty special. I can't deny it. Maybe I _am_ the 'Chosen One' that Gighee thing wanted to look at?"

"I wouldn't fault it for wanting to. You're equal parts odd and extraordinary."

"Aren't those the same thing?"

"Different contexts."

"True…" Prompto nodded.

"Though… perhaps 'Starling' is an appropriate nickname for you. _Beyond _it being a blackbird."

That had placed glimmers of curiosity in the blond's eyes. "Really?"

The brunet nodded. "Starlings are especially notable for their intelligence and adaptability."

Prompto smiled. "Mom would call me that if she knew."

"But, one more thing…"

"Yeah?"

"Starlings are also loud, annoying, and an _absolute pest_."

The smile blew out into another brilliant grin. "She wouldn't say that."

"No, but I _would_, and I am not your mother."

"Thank goodness. Who would I have to piss off in a past life to end up as _your _kid? I like being me, thanks."

"Starling."

"Sheltie."

"Interesting choice."

"_Appropriate_, more like. All that _barking_ you do is good for keeping a flock of sheep together, but annoying everywhere else, and I'm no sheep."

"Hm."

Ignis finished his check for items, and put everything away where it belonged, satisfied. And for the rest of the time he remained seated in his chair, gaze caught by the campfire that still crackled and licked at the air.

"I could stare at it forever," Ignis whispered, more to himself than anything as he watched the flames dance enticingly.

Prompto settled in his seat. "Brings back good memories?"

"... You could say that."

"It is pretty relaxing… or more like, _entrancing_, that's a word you'd use."

"That is what I was thinking of."

A silence lingered between them. Not an awkward one by any means, but one where the day's events could unfurl, and what tension held them up could slip away with each of their breaths.

"Do you still … remember the day that we met?"

Prompto gave it some thought. "First met, second met, third met...?"

"_First_ met." Ignis couldn't help that he sounded amused.

"Haha, sure I do. Why would I ever forget that?" Prompto leaned close to whisper, "It was a _night_, for one…"

"Same difference, as you would say."

"Mmhmm."

Truth be told, the day Prompto joined the Crownsguard was the time they'd needed to _act _as if they had only seen each other then. They agreed to pretend that way before they both joined up as part of Prince Noctis's retinue, agreed to pretend not to know each other as well as they really did. A strange thing to anyone else, but they understood each other, the reasons why.

To Prompto's benefit, Ignis was one of those people that was _worth_ meeting for the first time more than once. There were so many situations they met in, and different facets of themselves to show.

Their _first _first time was about ten years ago, on a long night that on the surface was like most other ones. The moon waxed full and loomed over the star-speckled sky, with not a single cloud to interrupt the sight. It was a night when Prompto could enjoy the cool air skimming across his skin, when he could turn his face up to the sky and breathe deep, and appreciate the fact that he could breathe at all.

The days were overwhelming for him, especially in the summer when the air was thick with humidity and the sun blazed bright like someone stuck a fresh pair of batteries into it. At best he could deal with indirect light, but his eyes were too sensitive for more than that, especially with his glasses, so thick winter curtains covered his room while the sun was up. Nighttime was a different story, one where he felt better, when he could take off the lenses and still see clearly.

He even snuck out of his window on those nights, and he would go out for a run too. Insomnia was a big place, winding alleys and sprawling streets, the former of which he used to avoid discerning gazes. He rarely saw the same face twice that way, which made meeting someone his age at that hour so _funny_. He couldn't find any other word to describe when he'd nearly bumped into another boy literally as they were each turning the same corner between buildings.

Prompto held up his hands in defense and stepped away, and the other boy merely froze where he was, like he was used to everyone else diverting their course around him like a river around stone.

'_Hrm… what are _you_ doing out and about at this hour?'_ the boy sounded older than he looked, like an adult patrolling the streets, and sounded like a noble as well.

'_The same thing _you're_ doing, probably.'_ Prompto wasn't going to be cowed by someone that could just do an impression of a grown-up, though, no matter how convincing.

'_I doubt it.'_

'_Uh huh, you do that.'_

'_Where are your parents?'_

'_Home. Yours?'_

The boy thought on it for a time. '_Same place._'

'_In _my_ house? _That_ I'm doubting._'

'_Just_…_ home. In general._'

'_In that case, I won't tell your parents on you if you don't tell mine._'

'_How would you even know who to look for?_'

'_Pretty sure I'd remember a face like yours. I look for that, but taller and older._'

'_You and your parents would be just as easy to find, then._'

'_No, we wouldn't._'

The boy's mouth curled on one side in a way Prompto didn't have a word for yet. '_I'll humor you, then. My name is "Ignis"._'

'_**Ignis**__… Not a bad name. Mine's "Prompto"._'

'_Fine then. __**Prompto,**_' there was a deliberation to the way Ignis said the name that Prompto had never heard from anyone else aside from his parents- most _other_ people said it as quick as it meant, like they needed to get it out of the way of the rest of their words and it was just _stuffy_. '_I certainly hope we don't meet the same way twice. Could be a cause for concern._'

'_But you _are_ hoping we meet again._'

There was that curl to the boy's mouth again, and a faint twitch to the other side. Prompto realized then that Ignis was trying to _smile._ '_Don't know what makes you say that._'

They each went their separate ways until the next chance meeting, and although Ignis had warned about it all the way back on that night ten years ago, Prompto was endlessly curious to know what _would_ happen had they met the same way on another day or another year. Would either of them speak to each other the way they had then, or was it just the thrill of another person spurring them on?

In the present moment he said aloud, "I remember that. But…" Prompto motioned to his own eyes, "You weren't wearing glasses back then."

"Neither were you."

The fact that both of them needed corrective lenses was something they found at the same time, not too much later, when Prompto was taking an entrance exam into secondary school and Ignis had been the assistant proctor. Ignis almost didn't recognize him, but the way Prompto pushed his glasses up and his brusque '_The hell are you looking at?_' gave him away easily. Ignis had said nothing and walked to the next person after giving Prompto his booklet and answer sheet, and when Prompto looked back he saw the other shaking his head lightly in amusement at fate. He could guess the other was trying his best to smile then, too.

"Mm, doesn't matter now, I don't need them anymore," the blond said with a shrug. "You'd be surprised what a good visit to the doctor can do."

"Is that so?"

"Yeah. What, you think I was wearing those glasses so I could slip by you incognito or something?"

"Is _that _your idea? Please, you look the same with glasses or without them. It's not as if they change what you look like entirely, unless you believe life imitates comic books."

"No, I don't," Prompto admitted, "but I do know it _kinda_ makes you look different to other people. I mean-" he reached over and snatched up Ignis's glasses, and put them on his own face.

"Did you just-...?"

"Yeah, yeah, I … Huh?" He blinked, then turned his head to look around. "Oh… cool, I can see fine even with these," he said in awe. "Thought you'd have a stronger prescription or something."

"My vision is passable even without the glasses, for your information."

"Interesting…" Prompto looked in Ignis's direction to check how the other looked now without the lenses, but his view was blocked by a phone and a mischievous smirk. "Hey, what's the big idea?"

Ignis had taken a few pictures by then. "Oh, nothing, immortalizing this particular detail of how you look. Why, do you think you '_own_' the concept of taking photos, hm?"

"Yeah? I'm the _king _of photography. You can't handle my throne, so gimme!" Prompto left his seat to snatch the phone out of Iggy's hands.

"You can't delete another man's photos, that's _rude._"

"And you can't take them without getting permission!"

Circling around Ignis to get the phone could've been an option, but Prompto didn't want Iggy solving that by the simple act of leaving his seat and walking away, so he reduced Ignis's evasive actions to twisting and leaning where he was seated, and it worked out well for him; he _still _managed to keep the phone out of Prompto's reach.

It was minutes into their struggle, with Prompto breathless and Ignis laughing, that a chance brush of their skin made the realization sink further of how close they were. He hadn't noticed how green Ignis's eyes were before now, not a vibrant hue that popped necessarily, but a subtle shade of sage. Neutral, _calming. _He supposed they fit.

"U-uhm…" He didn't know what to make of this. He was already straddling Ignis.

Ignis was similarly speechless, and despite himself, his gaze darted down to Prompto's lips the second the blond licked them in nervousness. He tried to correct that and brought his view back up, drew in a breath, and brought the phone close. "Here." As terse as he could be, with his gaze flicking elsewhere and a dry gulp pushing its way down his throat.

Prompto took the phone and sorted through the pictures. A stray thought fluttered by that Ignis was a natural at this thing; by the glow of the firelight, Prompto actually looked… _nice_.

One quick glance back up to Ignis, who still looked elsewhere, and back to the phone. Prompto swiped through each picture to figure out where the series of them started and finished, then tapped them all.

But he didn't delete them.

He hit the menu to make a new folder, moved the photos there, and set the password himself to lock it from view.

"Done."

Ignis allowed himself the sight of Prompto once more, and held his phone again. He spotted the new folder, but didn't have time to question its presence. He felt the other's lips brush against his ear, and the password was whispered right to it.

Another secret for them to keep.

Prompto put the glasses back where they belonged, too, and got up from Ignis's lap. They extinguished the campfire together then retreated to the tent to rest the night away.

While Prompto laid there in his sleeping bag, he could hear the soft taps of a finger against a screen, and he didn't fight the smile that crept up and the bite to his lower lip. The sound held him, and he allowed himself to relax to that. Then the lingering scent of the put-out flame curled its smoky tendrils around his senses and brought something else to mind, took him to a place he couldn't name, though he knew he'd been there once, years ago. Where was that?


	2. Family

**Author's Note: **Thank you, guest reviewer! Hope you enjoy this second chapter as much as you did the first one.

* * *

**Chapter 2: Family**

Fingertips skimmed along Prompto's forehead and carded through his hair, and the feel of it, though feather-light, caused him to stir awake. He blinked aimlessly, brain still fuzzy from sleep, until that fog and his vision cleared up. "Mmmhhh..?"

The hand pulled back. Prompto saw who it belonged to and curled up further in his sleeping bag. "Iggy! Couldn't you find some other way to wake me up?" That was too tender a touch for the attendant to try. Prompto had almost thought he was _home_ for a second, before he got his bearings and realized where exactly he was. The even and rhythmic pat of footsteps just outside of the tent said Gladio was getting in a morning jog at the foot of the haven.

"Would you rather I leave the waking duties to Gladiolus?" Ignis asked. "You're a light enough sleeper in the morning that an equally light touch would suffice."

Prompto grumbled about it, and a glance to his side had him doing a double take to the person-sized lump and the mess of jet-black hair that was still there. He poked at Noctis with a finger, but Noct didn't stir an inch.

"Is he dead?"

Ignis scoffed. "No, he's just dead to the world. Trust that there's a difference between being asleep and being dead."

"Right. So… are you gonna…?"

"No, I already have a plan in place to wake him."

"A plan? Does it involve Gladio taking up those 'waking duties'?"

Gladio had either the good fortune or the _mis_fortune that his lap around put him in position to jog by the tent when he heard that. "Don't ask me, I'm not doin' it."

"Geez, sounds like a story's behind that kind of denial." Prompto looked to Ignis for an answer.

That's exactly what he'd get. "Indeed. On a day much similar to this one, Noctis was similarly _unconscious, _and Gladiolus had the truly bright idea to try _slapping _His Highness awake."

"With _those_ mitts? I'm surprised Noct isn't dead for real."

"_Something _never came back from that, I assure you." Ignis pushed up his glasses. "Could you imagine how Noctis responded to being slapped?"

"Screaming bloody murder?"

"No. Not even close."

"Wha…?"

"What he said was, '_Harder_'."

"There are some things man wasn't meant to know," Gladio said on another lap, and shuddered. He took yet another lap and added, "Trying that was the biggest mistake of my life."

"Oh, don't be modest, Gladiolus, I'm sure you've made plenty worse ones."

Gladio pondered a response for a lap that came faster than the others. "Don't make me get back up there, Iggy. You'll get worse than a slap."

Ignis let out a single bark of a laugh. "Don't threaten me with a good time."

Prompto couldn't help but laugh at the exchange, and looked again to the unresponsive prince. "So, was he awake when he said it, or…?"

Ignis let his own gaze travel to his ward. "That is the question, isn't it?"

"One that I don't want answered while I'm still alive to hear it, at any rate." Gladio's laps had slowed down.

Ignis and Prompto vacated the tent and left Noctis as the sole occupant. Prompto got ready for the rest of the day, complete with a fresh change of clothes, his meds, and some breakfast in his belly, while the others waited. Ignis figured that Prompto getting as full a meal as possible would ensure that he wouldn't be tempted to buy gysahl chips at Wiz's Chocobo Post just to feel satisfied for a few minutes.

And yes, the Chocobo Post was _exactly_ where they were headed this morning. All three of them. Ignis considered it a good place for resources and the supplies they needed. At least, that's what he _said _about it_._ Prompto trusted Ignis there; he and Gladio had actually traveled to these outlands ahead of time to get a decent feel for the climate and the creatures they'd encounter.

Of course, what Ignis didn't say aloud was that there was a communications tower right on the establishment grounds. Not that no one knew what it was for, but Prompto gave Iggy a warm smile once he realized what he could do while so close to a strong signal.

It was simple to wait for Gladio to be hooked by a pretty face and want to win their attention, and while he was busy with that, Prompto propped up the phone on the table and started up a video call with Ignis sitting beside him.

The man that answered the call after a few seconds had a thick and curly head of hair, the color of pepper with faint traces of salt. The wrinkles around his eyes suggested that he'd had plenty of things to be happy about in his time, and from the laughter in the background, he wasn't behind in being the cause of amusement either.

"Ah, son, just in time!" The man looked off-camera, to his left. "Ligia, come quick. Prompto is on the phone."

"He is?" Ligia, or _Mom _as Prompto knew her as, put aside whatever she was doing, to get within view of the phone's camera. "My baby boy, my little Blackbird," she trilled happily, "what tidings do you bring?"

"Good ones, of course," Prompto said with a grin. "Ignis is here," he pointed to his friend, "and we're~ at Wiz's! You know, where the chocobos are?"

"That's wonderful! And hello, Ignis!" Ligia waved at the camera.

Ignis smiled and waved back. "Good morning, Mrs. Ligia. And good morning to you as well, Mr. Simon."

Ignis and Simon each gave a nod of mutual acknowledgment.

Prompto rested his chin in his hands. "So how's everything over there? Not missing me too much, I hope?"

"Feels like an eternity since we last saw you in this house," Ligia said with a note of dismay. "Though the day had to come eventually when you would leave us and make your own path out in the world."

"Less of me leaving, and more like you guys bribing me out of the nest with food. You _sure _either of you didn't have a career in bird-watching? 'Cause you've gotten that part down pat." _And it sure explains where I got my hobby_, he thought.

The grin that lit up Ligia's face left no question as to where Prompto had gotten his own from. "We wouldn't have done it if we didn't have faith that you'd spread your wings. Truly, we mean it. You take your _own _path," she said, and wagged a finger as if scolding. "None of this talk of 'owing' us and 'paying back'."

Prompto looked disheartened. "Mom, it's not like I was saying I would because I _had _to. I _want _to. After all you two have done… you deserve at least that much."

Ligia looked off camera. "Honey, he's going to start talking about buying us a house again, he _is_. Speak sense into him, _please_."

Simon came into view of the camera again. "Well, you know I've got to say _something_ about this."

Prompto sighed. "I know…"

"Your mother's right, and you know that too. Such a young man shouldn't fret so much over those who are already old. Leave _us_ the job of getting these grey hairs. What _you_ must do is get the house for yourself when you want to settle down, and enjoy your youth while you have it."

"You are our son, not a bank account with legs," Ligia added.

Simon pointed to her and mouthed to Prompto, '_Listen to her.'_

Prompto smiled and nodded. "Still… what if I got one with enough room to have you two stay a while? Ignis could be there too, and he'd cook for you. He's actually really great at that —"

"Ohhhh… Ignis, hm? Then we _shouldn't_ be there. You two need your space."

Seconds of silence went by as the words sunk in. "Dad, it's _not_ like that."

"Mmhmm?" It sounded as if Simon had wanted to say '_What a terrible fib_,' but he would have worded it in less polite terms and currently had enough sense not to swear in front of the 'children'.

"I mean it, we're not! And even if we were, it's not like we'd need rooms for anything special; we're not making kids!"

"Neither were your mother and I while you were out."

Prompto gasped, "Dad!" and covered the phone's screen as if that would make the words reverse course. He felt like his face caught aflame from the rush of blood. ( Ignis thought to himself, _Perhaps it's best if I leave? _But made no move to do so. )

He withdrew the makeshift cover when he heard his mother say, "Forgive your father, he hasn't a hair on his tongue."

"It's fine, Mom." Prompto tugged at his collar to abate the heat with some air. "I should get used to that kind of talk."

Ligia sighed so deeply that even Ignis felt it. "Honestly, I've no idea why the conversation always turns so… unmentionable."

"Because," Simon said confidently, "I know what men are like at so young an age. I was his age too, once!"

"I don't think you've ever _stopped_ being his age."

"Awww..."

"Now," Ligia focused her attention back to her lovely little Blackbird, who definitely appreciated the conversation being turned away from him for however long that digression lasted. "How are things in your travels?"

"Everything's fine. Taking our time with it, you know? Noct wants to make sure he gets to know everybody. Or, as many people as he can."

"Oh, good. He seems like such a kind boy. Not very prim, mind, but not like what I've heard of his father."

Prompto scratched at the back of his head. "Yeah, that's Noct for ya. Subverting all kinds of expectations."

"And you, have you been behaving yourself?"

"I have! Iggy, you tell her."

Ignis leaned back into view just to say, "He is behaving, though he has his _moments_."

Prompto gasped and mouthed '_Traitor!_' at him, accompanied with a narrow-eyed glare.

Ligia's laughter rang out, clear and contagious enough that it was no wonder that Simon liked to tell her jokes. "You boys," she paused and shook her head. "Really, the morning is still young. We shouldn't take so much of your time."

"You're not, I swear," Prompto protested. "But… I can see why you'd say that." That the days were getting shorter was something known around most of Lucis, even in Insomnia, where they didn't have to worry about what the night would bring. Daytime was turning into a valuable commodity. "We'll talk again first thing tomorrow, how about that?"

Ligia nodded. "Tomorrow. A safe flight to you, little Blackbird. Love you always! And to you, Ignis, remember to be as kind to yourself as you are to our boy."

Ignis was well aware that two decades was still a short span of time compared to a full life, but it still surprised him that words were yet capable of wrenching the guard from him. He responded with a bow of thanks, and a quiet, "Yes. I will keep that in mind."

"Good." She looked off camera again. "Simon, the call is about to finish."

"Oh, in that case, what you said, but _in stereo_."

Ligia rolled her eyes.

Prompto's lips quirked in a wry smile. "Love you too, Mom, Dad."

As a goodbye, Prompto and his mother both made the same gesture. They each brought their hands together, and formed a circle with their thumbs and pointer fingers, like a sign for 'glasses', but both lenses overlapping into one. The remaining fingers were intertwined and formed a steeple.

"Watching over you," she said.

"Same," he replied.

The call was over with the push of a button, and Prompto put his phone away.

Ignis took off his glasses briefly to wipe them, though they had nothing on them _to _wipe off that could be seen by the naked eye. "As always, it's a pleasure to hear them in such good spirits. Though I must say… they certainly are _adamant _on me being part of the family."

"That's what I've been telling you, Igs!" A laugh followed the blond's words. "They love you. Especially Mom. I mean, why wouldn't she? The first time you came over, you gave her a bouquet of flowers."

"Why would I not? It was the right thing to do."

Prompto believed it. Sure, Ignis was technically upper class, and he had the 'nobleman's smirk' to show for it ( that's what Dad had called it, because '_the rich, they never smile with their whole mouths,_' ), but Iggy hadn't let his status preclude him from good manners, and it was hard not to respect that.

He'd arrived with a bouquet of dark pink roses as a gift, just as much a surprise as it was ultimately appreciated. He'd taken his shoes off and set them beside the door so he wouldn't track anything in the house, and it took a bit of convincing that he didn't need to worry about that. He didn't so much as sit on the couch until he'd been invited to do so, and he was eye-poppingly courteous at dinnertime.

Prompto couldn't find it in him to resent that he'd been assigned to dishwashing duty just because his mom had seen Ignis roll up his sleeves and get ready to do that and _No, you're a guest, __**please, **__sit down, Prompto will handle the dishes_. He couldn't find it in him to be upset about more chores.

Especially since that gave his parents the time to _talk _to Ignis and know what he was about, though he wasn't entirely forthcoming about that. When asked about his job, he said he worked for someone very important. "_Not surprising, we all serve someone more important than ourselves in a way,"_ Mom said about that. They were happy that Ignis had known Prompto well enough already that their son was comfortable inviting him into their home ( and wondered if _he_ was the reason why Prompto would come home smiling so much brighter than usual ).

Then the question about Ignis's parents came up, which wasn't so much a question at first as it was Mom and Dad being so pleased with his comportment that the statement '_Your parents must be so proud of you_' had come out of Mom's mouth and was met with a few blinks and a quick downcast gaze before Ignis agreed that they _would_ be.

Mom and Dad had too good an ear for the way people worded things, so they figured something was up, and they looked at each other in that way people did when they knew each other so well they could have a conversation without so much as a word out loud ( and Prompto envied that, sometimes. Wondered if he'd ever have someone understand him that much ).

Point being that Prompto decided that eavesdropping wouldn't make the porcelain any shinier, and by the time he made sure the dishes were spotless and set on the drying rack, he returned to the living room to find Ignis in the clamp of one of Mom's legendary _Everything-in-the-World-is-Alright-Now _hugs, and Iggy looked like he believed that, for however long that hug lasted. He really did.

When Ignis finally left for the night, he left Mom enamored with him and Dad impressed at his composure. And _then _he sent a letter of thanks to them for hosting him, and that was the last straw that tipped them over to wanting him to visit more often and asking for him over the phone.

Which, again, Prompto wouldn't point out like it was a bad thing. He was pretty sure that Mom settled for hugging him twice as hard in the hopes that half of that warmth would transfer to Ignis from sheer force of will so the adviser would know that _someone _loved and appreciated him very much. On top of that, Prompto was more than delighted to pass that embrace on just to feel Ignis's reaction to it each time, because he always reacted to it like it was the first.

That was all just so wonderful.

"Oh, and before you ask," Prompto said in the present moment, "yeah, my parents are like that _all_ the time. Not just when you're around."

Ignis gave his glasses a minor adjustment, and used his hand to hide his laugh. "Couldn't imagine them being any other way."

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"Let's say, I know where you got your sense of humor and good nature from."

Prompto felt his face heat up again. "Don't say things like that."

"Why not? Because I'm right?"

He only averted his gaze in substitute for avoiding the subject.

He supposed he inherited much from his parents, even when they weren't his by blood. And despite their prideful protests, he owed them his life. They were also the reason why he was in the Crownsguard at all.

That particular talk wasn't easy to get through. None of the important ones ever were. They wanted him safe, as parents did, and the best way was for him to become honorary nobility, under the Prince's protection with his magic. Everyone knew about the war between Niflheim and Lucis, of the lives lost and territories taken. The past years were a brief reprieve, but it likely wouldn't take much for the two nations to be embroiled in conflict once more. So above everything else, his parents wanted _him_ to be safe, not to hear the news of him dying tragically in protection of a royal who already had a Shield.

That they 'bribed him with food' was true, too, though not in those exact words. They attempted to appeal to his heart, and it was a nice lesson in haggling; they coaxed him by way of his friendship to Ignis, by a suggestion that if he joined Noctis's retinue, it would allow him to spend more time with his friend. He tried to bargain and say that he could strengthen that bond another way. It was working fine as it was, even if the two relied on happenstance meetings and messages passed between them.

But long story short, his parents won, and he was here.

He was snapped out of his rêve with a corner-of-the-eye glimpse at Ignis pressing something on his phone screen. He almost couldn't believe what he saw. "Did you …?"

Ignis looked at him as if nothing at all was amiss. "Yes."

"...I'm _really _gonna regret what happened last night, huh?"

"I wouldn't say _that_."

"What _would_ you say? If any one of us was supposed to be a '_paragon of proper conduct_', it'd be you."

"Hah! _Please,_ Prompto. I'm allowed to have _fun _every once in a while." He swiped through the pictures he'd taken thus far. "All work and no play makes Jack a dull boy," he mused aloud.

"Is that a…" Prompto was afraid to finish the question, but finish he would, regardless. "Is that a scary movie quote again?"

"It's a _proverb_, in actuality, but yes, a scary movie _did _popularize the phrase."

Prompto shuddered. "Let's put that aside for now and focus on looking busy." He pushed his chair back to rise from his seat. "Can't give Gladio the opportunity to ask any questions." He headed toward the item stand to make some headway on the replenishment of their inventory.

Ignis couldn't fault Prompto for keeping his eyes on the prize, as it were. In fact, hearing such focus almost put a smidgen of pride in the space where his heart was supposed to be. Listening to Prompto and doing as he did sounded like the best course of action, so he would get up to go to the item stand as well.

At least, that was his intention. He spotted movement, and stopped himself in time to note Gladio's approach.

"Got a minute, Iggy?"

"I have time, yes. Why do you ask?"

"Nothin' major, it's just…" Gladio swept his thumb-tip over his cheek in imitation of pensiveness, though when his gaze drifted to a certain _someone_ looking over what was in stock, what devious thought was going through his mind grew clearer by the second.

"What of him?"

"Heh… like I said, it's not a big deal. I just want you to, let's say... _tell me_ some things about him."

Ignis pondered as to where this was going. "Ask, and I'll answer the best I can." He kept his tone as unreadable as he could make it.

While the two of them conversed, Prompto was well out of earshot, and oblivious as to the topic of their talk. He looked over the stands of different flavors of gysahl chips, and while he would usually be tempted to buy some, he still felt himself too full to enjoy a bag of the stuff the way they deserved to be enjoyed.

"Maybe later," he muttered to himself.

As for ingredients for potions, from what he could see, it'd be easier on their wallets to buy filtered water and then search in the wild for what they needed to boil. He used to not know a thing about that, but the time he spent around Gladio had made him familiar with how complex nature could be.

At the start of their journey, he considered all mushrooms that weren't store-bought to be poisonous, end of story, and it was better to be safe than sorry. A _decent _place to start for someone that lived in the city, but Gladio pointed out that there were different strains of fungi that conferred just as varied boons or blights.

The ones that grew at the foot of havens were the most curative, and coincidentally what gave potions their bitterness. Gladio explained that the contrariety had a purpose, too; the taste would ward off most animals that stopped by a haven to feed, so a human camping there could have a fresh stock of potions if they knew how to take advantage of what nature had given them.

And on the other side of that coin, the malicious strains were colorful to give the impression of fruit, and tasted sweet too, to lure the unsuspecting and indolent. Those kinds were lethal to all but the most resistant animals. Poisons fashioned from those were a favorite for would-be assassins that wanted to hide their subterfuge by slipping it into their target's favorite drink without throwing off the taste.

Honestly, Gladio sounded _way _too experienced, and enthusiastic, about that last part. It put a shudder into Prompto's spine just thinking about it. He put the thought in the strongbox in the back of his mind and put eight different locks on the box. Change of subject.

Some healing alstrooms were likely at the foot of the haven they'd rested at. And Ignis _did _mention it wouldn't take much time to recuperate missing ingredients… hm. Prompto had to consider that one covered, then. Or at least, mostly covered.

_What else are we missing … Hm? What are these?_

Prompto bent close to the item stand and peered at the variegated feathers placed evenly on the surface, and read the label. "Phoenix Downs…?" Did people really pluck the feathers out from the undercoat of a _phoenix_ and sell them off for gil? The idea had him placing a hand over his mouth, concern knitting his brows closer together as he thought of the bird being subject to something like that.

Ignis strode up beside Prompto, noting the intent gaze upon the down feathers. "They aren't real. Rather, they're not real in the way you think they are_._"

"Huh?" Prompto's expression relaxed at hearing that, though it could only soften to one of confusion rather than of worry. "So what makes them not real?"

Ignis picked up one such feather, holding it by its quill and turning it back and forth his fingers. "Beautiful though they are, these are not the feathers of the Phoenix of legend. They're downs from a juvenile chocobo. So, no phoenixes were harmed in its creation."

"Oh…" Prompto had been ready to breathe a sigh of relief that the Phoenix wasn't stripped of its feathers, but a frisson of alarm went through him when he caught the rest of the words.

Ignis saw enough of that look to laugh to himself. "Not to worry, the feathers are taken when the chocobos are shedding their previous coat. They're not plucked there either. What they _are _is checked for their quality. Only the best are dyed to resemble the fiery plumage of the real Phoenix, then dipped in a special compound. Here, check for yourself."

Prompto took the down feather offered him, and so much as a gentle wave of it near his nose brought sharp prickles of spice to the attention of his olfactory senses. "Whoa…. S'got a real kick to it!" He handed it back to Ignis.

"Mm." Ignis nodded. "In Insomnia, we have smelling salts_. _These are much the same and perform a similar purpose, to rouse someone if they're knocked out. Were it the down feather of a _true _Phoenix, its effects would be much more potent. Rather than reanimation from unconsciousness, it could resurrect the dead."

Prompto's eyes widened in awe. "What… really? Bringing people back to life?" Something about this didn't sound right, though. Ignis was referring to the Phoenix as if it _were _real, but if so… "Where's Phoenix right now, then?"

"Ah…"

A third shadow joined them to cast across the item stand, followed by Gladio's voice as he answered, "The Phoenix died a _long_ time ago."

Prompto looked back and shot Gladio a crooked grin, "_Heh. _Yeah, right. Don't phoenixes usually come back? I know that much. It would be back by now... _Right?_" He looked to Ignis for reassurance, but the slight shake of Iggy's head in response caused the grin to slide right off Prompto's face.

Gladio sighed. "Look, it happened way back when. You should've learned about it already. What'd you do, sleep through History?"

There was a much more sheepish grin on Prompto's face, then, when he admitted, "More or less…"

A heavy hand clapped his shoulder in consolation. "Alright, I'll give you the rundown of what happened to the Phoenix of legend. But you have to _promise _that you're not gonna be loud about it."

_What's there to be loud about? _Prompto thought, but he gave a nod of understanding. The story couldn't be so bad, could it?

Ignis covered his mouth as if pensive, while Prompto and Gladio took their leave of the item stand. He'd follow, of course, and he would listen in on the conversation to see where it went, but first, he set some gil on the counter for the Phoenix Down.

Gladio kept his hand on Prompto's shoulder as he guided him around. "So, what do you know about Solheim?"

"Uhh… ancient civilization, went to shit, not on the map anymore," Prompto rattled off.

"Uh-huh, uh-huh… but you don't know _why _it's not on the map anymore."

"Pretty sure we established the whole 'not good at history' thing, but _yeah, _I… don't know."

"Well, here's the story." They stopped walking, and Gladio stared intently so as to make sure Prompto was paying full attention to the explanation. "A long time ago, the Six were closer to humans than they are now. Sure, Titan is still around, but I'm talking the _whole _Hexatheon watched over humanity back then, and Solheim existed as the only nation."

"And one of the Six gods was Phoenix?" Prompto tilted his head. He at least heard of one of the gods being a fire elemental, and Phoenix would definitely fit that description considering the whole 'reborn from ashes' mythology.

"Mmhmm. Whenever anyone died, all someone had to do was appeal to the Phoenix to bring their souls back. The Empyrean would let them take a single down feather from its coat, and the feather would be blessed with life-giving powers. Give it to a dead person, and there they'd be as if they never died in the first place."

"Hold up… What's '_Empyrean' _mean?" It sounded like _Imperial _which wasn't good to start with, and Prompto had never heard of the title before to describe any kind of deity. Besides, the title would have to sound like it described the element, and —

"It means '_composed of fire_'," Ignis interjected.

Okay, _that_ sounded like it fit. Fire bird, fire title. Prompto nodded as the pieces slipped into place.

"Thanks, Iggy," Gladio said, offering the adviser a single nod of his own before turning his attention back to Prompto. "But the key here, is that they had to _wait _for the Phoenix to _let them_ take a feather, or for the Phoenix to give one all on its own, and it had to be a _down _feather on top of all that. As for the quality, the Phoenix always made sure that the feathers were clean, and soft to the touch."

"Oh, so, like the Phoenix Downs of today, then?" Prompto was starting to get the idea, and the shimmer in his eyes told Gladio as much.

"Yeah. Like that. But you know what they say about too much of a good thing," Gladio paused to shake his head at what would come next, a sad and sorry turn to the tale, "with more people being born, more were dying, and they _all _needed to be brought back, if their family had anything to say about it. Only, instead of _waiting_ for the Phoenix's permission, or even bothering to appeal to it, the people _stole_ the Phoenix's feathers. Not just the down feathers that it would offer in the first place, either. They were taking its feathers from _everywhere_."

Prompto let out a hushed gasp of '_No!'_ though it wouldn't be of any use. Gladio was _already _telling him the story, which meant the Empyrean had already been betrayed by the people it once helped prosper. Though a fearsome fowl it most likely had been, the blond couldn't help but think, _that poor bird!_

"And that's not the worst part."

"It's not…?" He didn't think he had it in him to hear more, but he had promised he'd listen, and he wasn't going to go down as some kind of renegade over a quick and dirty history lesson.

"Nope. The Phoenix was, as Ignis would say," ( Ignis caught that and raised an eyebrow — ) "_offended beyond compare,_" ( Ignis thought on that and nodded, finding the wording accurate — ) "but anger is a secondary emotion. If anything, the Empyrean was _hurt_ at the betrayal, hurt enough that it died of heartbreak. Over time, its feathers lost their power to revive people … in the way they wanted."

Prompto was ready to say something, as he'd thought of that as the end. The feathers stopped bringing people to life, the people all died and that was the end of that, but Gladio's addition made him freeze up. "What do you mean… 'in the way they wanted'?"

Gladio took in a deep breath, held it as he pondered on how to break the news to Prompto, "The Phoenix Downs brought the people back without their souls. As _undead._"

The look on Prompto's face suggested he was stuck between pitching a scream with enough volume to pull that same feat, or just plain fainting dead away from the shock, eyes rolled back and all. He did neither, and for that would need a medal.

"_Zombies…?_" was all he could manage, his voice a whisper.

Gladio nodded with a grim expression. "Zombies."

Ignis briefly took his hand away from his face and no longer had the look of someone debating on something. "To think that Solheim was once a _prosperous_ civilization. Its people proved too avaricious for someone as benevolent as the Empyrean, and that was the cause of its downfall."

"Oh… oh no…" Prompto looked crestfallen, heartbroken by so many things at once.

"And _that's_ why the Phoenix Downs people use aren't the real ones from the ancient era. The more you know," Gladio concluded, and gave Prompto some consolatory pats on the shoulder as reward for listening. He walked away towards the haven and left Prompto thinking things over, the same concern as before causing his brows to furrow.

Whatever question was on Prompto's mind was one he mulled over the whole way back to camp, and it seemed that stepping foot onto the warded ground instilled in him the confidence to voice it. So it was when he was checking his gun, disassembling it and putting it back together as he was wont to do when he needed to clear his mind of things, when he asked,

"There's no way a zombie apocalypse can happen now, right? Now that the Phoenix is dead?"

Gladio looked up from the book he was reading. "Huh…?" Ignis had gone into the tent and wasn't going to answer anytime soon, so he supposed it was up to him to do it. His gaze drifted up to look at the skies, as if the answer were there if he stared long enough. "There might be, actually."

Prompto's lips turned into a tight line of tension across his face. "Might be."

"Sources say, while the Phoenix is dead and its feathers don't revive people like they used to, they still _look_ the same as ever. The people that make the Phoenix Downs to sell them, pulled off the look a bit _too _well. So much, that true feathers and the fake ones are next-to-identical. If anything, I'd say one per every … _hundred_ or so Phoenix Downs sold in stores is the real deal."

"S-so… how do you know which ones work right?"

Gladio shrugged. "Using it and seeing what happens."

Just then, Ignis emerged from the tent and took his seat beside the others. He adjusted his glasses in just the slightest. "I suppose it _isn't _the right time to say that I've just used a down feather on Noctis?"

Prompto blinked in bewilderment, and his gaze darted over to the tent.

At that point, the tent rustled with more movement yet, accompanied by short grunts as the raven-haired prince struggled to escape his confines — he managed the feat and shambled out. His mouth was agape, and a small rivulet of drool ran down his slackened mouth and stopped at his chin. He limped in the direction of the others and made a vague reach for them, and out of his mouth came the tremulous groan of

"_Beeeeaaaaaaannnnnnssssss…._"

A screech cut through the air so loud that when the sound faded, it could only mean the source of that scream had either lost his voice, or there were some _beyond irritated_ dogs out there. The point was that Prompto had, as Gladio or Noctis would put it, _completely lost his shit. _He'd dropped his gun and clambered onto Gladio's shoulders as best as he could while he pointed to Noctis in panic.

"Zombie! Noct's a zombie! Kill him with fire!"

Those proclamations didn't reach the zombie prince's ears, though, despite him being within five feet. He really _was _dead to the world, or at least 'only mostly dead'. He shuffled over to Ignis, took a can of black beans offered to him, and plopped down onto the newly-empty seat to shovel the beans into his mouth, without his eyes going any further than half-open.

Gladio clearly shook in his seat, though terror was the furthest reason why. He had his mouth covered with his hand to stifle the laughter about to bust out of him. "C-can't believe ya bought that story…."

It dawned on Prompto that he'd been had; the tale of the Phoenix was a total lie. He dismounted from his post and put enough distance between himself and Gladio to both find a rock to snatch up and toss that same rock at the Prince's Shield. Then he found another rock and did the same thing with that.

Gladio lifted an arm to keep them from striking his face. "Why throw a rock at me? _Ignis_ is the one actually laughing about this!"

Indeed he was; Ignis had already slapped his knee in laughter and had his clenched fist held over his mouth, hiding only _some _of his expression until he could straighten it out to one that _didn't _suggest he'd found humor at the expense of his friend, though the way his eyes were lit up said the mirth would take a long time to leave.

Prompto wasn't going to accept that deflection of blame, though. "At least Ignis was telling me something reasonable! _You_ came in with the zombie story!"

"He's right, Gladiolus. You … _aheh..._ did say the Phoenix was dead. I didn't realize you'd be so elaborate as to _why_."

Gladio still looked proud of that.

Prompto was not pleased at the lack of remorse. "I'm not talking to you again, ever. In fact, I hate you. Don't even _think_ about asking me for photos."

"Wasn't planning on it anytime soon." Gladio gave the blond the once-over as if expecting that he'd go back on his word sooner rather than later. "S'not my fault you don't know about any actual gods."

While that was going on, Noctis seemed to finally be waking up, just as his spoon was reaching the bottom of the can. At that stage he forwent the spoon and tilted the can over towards his mouth to eat his food that way. When he was done he spotted where everyone was seated — or _not _seated, in Prompto's case.

"What did I miss?"

By this point, Ignis had regained enough of his restraint to answer Noctis with an evenly toned voice. "Nothing spectacular, just Gladiolus convincing Prompto that there was such thing as a 'zombie apocalypse'."

Noctis looked taken aback by the news, and turned his attention to Prompto. "You know zombies aren't real, right?"

The denial came away more upsetting to Prompto than the initial joke. "Ignis can snap a bonfire into existence, you charge your phone with a Thunder spell, and we just got done yesterday catching frogs that skate on water and seeing a mythical horse-thing, but _zombies_ are unrealistic?"

"Yeap. That's what I said."

"You're really something else, Noct."

"Oh, I know." He stuck the empty spoon back into his mouth just to give it something to do.

There was no fazing Noct when he was already chilled out. Prompto tried to see what reaction he could get out of the others then. They couldn't _only _laugh at the joke they played on him. Or they could, and he was one sentence away from being introduced to further disappointment.

"It's okay," he began, "at least I know not to trust any of you."

Noct's face lit up at the words as if an idea hit, and he pulled the spoon out of his mouth. "You only now found that out? Iggy over here," he pointed to his adviser with the utensil, "he can't be trusted for a single second."

Wait, Noctis _agreed _with him? This was… new. He moved closer to the group and took his seat on the ground, next to Ignis. "Alright, can't be trusted. What's the story behind that?"

Ignis, meanwhile, looked askance toward his ward. "_Do tell,_ Noctis."

Noct squinted his eyes right back, in his best Old Western Movie glare. "You know what you did."

"Seriously, Noct, spill the…" Prompto paused and rolled his eyes at what he felt he had to say next, "Spill the beans."

Everyone else groaned at the pun, but it proved sufficient for Noct to relent. "Alright, here goes. One time, we did a trust exercise."

"What, the super simple '_fall back and let someone catch you_' thing? How did something like _that_ go wrong?"

"Iggy's phone went off."

Ignis shook his head and made a _tsk-tsk_ noise of disappointment at the perceived grudge. "I couldn't just let the phone ring, you know that."

"It was the wrong number!"

"I didn't know _that_ until I took the call."

"The number shows right up on the screen!"

"It could have been an emergency."

"Pretty sure you could've seen that coming."

"That's not how emergencies _work_, Noct. It's in the very word — they _emerge._"

Prompto nodded in agreement. "And there's a lot of _urgency_, too."

Noctis huffed. "Whatever, still not trusting Ignis again except in the little things."

Ignis took the empty can and spoon out of Noct's hands without any sign of protest from the other. "Little things like making sure you're fed, well rested, clean, not passed out from a lack of iron… considering what I do for you, you're _obligated_ to trust me."

"Fine, but I'm still gonna get you back for that, just you wait."

Prompto stifled his laugh; hearing these two talk never got old. He would have said something more, but was interrupted by the quick and heavy **drop **of something onto his lap. A copy of _Origin of the Stars_, the King Optimus version, courtesy of Gladio.

"There, so you learn a thing or two about the Six. A bit of light reading," he said as he returned to his chair.

Prompto gave him a look that would have been well-paired with an obscenity. "You call this door-stopper '_light reading_'? I could take a seat on this thing and be three feet taller."

Gladio shot him a glare. "Don't you dare."

"I might. And anyway, it'll take me a couple of days to get through it all. Weren't you halfway?"

"Already finished. Moved onto this one." Gladio lifted up another copy of _Origin of the Stars_, but with a different King's name on the cover. _Calypso_, this time.

"... Dude," Prompto cringed at the sight of the thing, "Isn't it the same book, basically?"

"Different translation, different info." Gladio thumbed through the contents. "Worth my time to check out what they left out or put in. Reveals something about the time period it was translated in."

"Other than the fact the language was stuffier, and the writer filled with '_thee_'s and '_thine_'s and forgot about the letter Q?" Prompto wasn't even going to ask about the jump between 'halfway' and 'done' that Gladio had taken on the King Optimus version. The guy must have read that in his sleep. But if he said Prompto would learn more about the Hexatheon with this, he figured he'd give it a shot.

While half the party was busy with an impromptu history lesson, Noctis rolled the map out across his lap and set the overlay on it again. "Where to this time, guys?"

Prompto didn't look up from the first page. "Longwythe."

Noctis marked the appropriate rest area on his map, and snuck a glance at his friend. "Back east?"

"Yeah."

"Closer to _Cindy_, more like." Gladio marked something on the passage he was reading, and folded the corner of the page over to keep its place while he flipped to the next one. "I think he misses her_._"

That made Prompto lose his place in his reading, and he shot a look at Gladio. "So what if I do? What, it's _wrong_ now to want to talk to someone?"

Gladio's gaze was nowhere close to meeting his, and remained fixed toward his book. "If you wanted to just _talk_, you'd call her up on the phone."

"And interrupt her work?"

"You'd be interrupting her either way," Ignis said, "a phone call is merely more expedient." He checked over the map as well, and pointed another place for Noctis to mark. Noct grinned at where that was, and mouthed '_Good looking out_'.

They were right, but … they didn't have to say it like that. Prompto continued to read, noting that the creation of the world began with the Six, but that the fire god was titled the _Infernian_, not the _Empyrean_. Each of the gods corresponded to an element necessary for mankind's survival — fire, ice, water, earth, lightning, and light itself. Light was the chief element, through which the others were founded.

_Like… white light shining through a prism and splitting into different colors? _Prompto supposed it made sense.

He skimmed through the pages, scanning them for the 'important stuff'; the gods created mankind in their image, et cetera … huh. Right. So if most of the gods were humanoid and humankind was crafted in their likeness, but the Hydraean was a serpent, did she create snakes and wyrms? Who was in charge of animals at all? And bugs?

And, where was Etro in all of this? Not one single mention of her anywhere. Her role of creating humanity was split among six gods instead of just leaving it at the one.

That Insomnia had a 'dominant religion' was a given. People were free to worship other gods and their Messengers as they wished, though. He heard of the whale Bismarck, for sure, from the fishermen that put more stock in that creature than they did to the Hydraean herself. He didn't expect that religion would dominate to this extent, and it just seemed _wrong, _to him, that so much creation could happen without a… well, without a _Mother, _and without a Father. A pair to watch over and supervise things. If anything in nature stood to see itself reflected in gods above, it would have been that.

Prompto continued; Solheim existed, prospered. Not different than his own summary of it. Solheim betrayed the Infernian ( _so __**that's**_ _where Gladio got that idea from… _) and Solheim fell through a plague wrought by the betrayed god as their divine punishment. However, the gods didn't foresee that the plague would spread like wildfire ( … _they really should have seen that coming, given the guy that made it was the __**fire**_ _elemental_… ) and to save the surviving humans from the ravages of disease, two bloodlines were blessed with the power to cure the sickness, and so it subsided. Somnus Lucis Caelum and Stella Lux Fleuret, progenitors of the respective lines that still bore their surnames to this day.

Why _them_, though? Couldn't the gods fix it? A god made the plague, so gods should have been able to unmake it.

He groaned. This book raised so many questions.

Etro and her Emissary simple to understand. She let the humans do as they pleased and reap what they sowed, and Death would come to claim them in time. Whether good or evil, everyone would return to Her eventually. That was just the way things were. To outsiders, it would seem that it made being good meaningless, but it didn't, really; _people _still had the capacity to punish each other for crimes, no need for a god to get involved with a heavy hand. Etro was just in charge of spooling the threads of peoples' lives, while her Emissary cut them before they could get too long to fit into her greater tapestry.

At least, that's how his mom explained it. He just wondered if Etro ever gave her own fingers a break. She sounded like she did a lot of weaving in the past eon and forever.

Out of reflex, he went to fold the corner of the page to keep his place in the text, but the equally fast realization of _Hey, it's not yours! _stopped him mid-motion. It was for nothing; a better look showed him that the corner had already been folded once before, so he made sure to bend it in the same way and not make any new creases.

( Gladio spotted that from the corner of his eye, and smiled to himself. )

He shut the book for now and looked to where Ignis and Noctis were last seated, and saw neither friend. He looked over to Gladio; Gladio nodded in the direction of the lake a ways off, where Ignis was busy in animated conversation with Noct, whose clothes were soaked to the last fiber. Such waterlog was courtesy of being pelted with the near-eponymous spell whenever he protested, and from what Prompto could tell from Ignis's mouth movements, Iggy met Noct's complaints with, '_I don't __**care**_ _if you bathed yesterday, that does __**not**_ _count for today!_' before casting once more.

Damn. No way they only started that argument close to the lake. He really tuned the start of it out while he was reading? Mythology was a hell of a noise canceler.

Gladio closed the distance between himself and Prompto. "Learn anything?"

"Yeah, that gods are weird. I mean, the first bit _does _explain why magic exists, and why…" Prompto tilted his head in Noctis's direction.

"Mmhmm. The Caelum bloodline was given control over the elements just second to that of the gods themselves. The Fleurets were given control over light and life itself. In layman's terms, we call their powers '_black magic_' or '_white magic_'. In writing it's more formal. This version," he lifted the book he held to show its cover to Prompto, "calls it '_the Spirits of the Six Within_'."

"Geez, I was right. That _is _stuffy. How's the rest of that thing?"

"Clogged. Be lucky you're reading the one I just gave you. The terms are easier to swallow."

"Heheheh. So, yeah, Caelums have black magic by birthright. Explains why Noctis has it. Same with Luna and white magic, since she's a Fleuret."

"Exactly. Though, when it comes to Noct, the gods should've made sure _wisdom _got passed down as easily as the magic did."

Man, Prompto didn't want to agree with that so obviously, but that didn't mean it wasn't true. He let a laugh slip out of him, and that got Gladio to crack a smile in turn.

"So, what's '_weird_' about the gods, then?"

"Well…" Prompto scratched at the back of his head. "It just reads like there are too many gods for them to still need humans when they want something done. Like, the whole plague thing." He made motions with his hands, as if weighing something against another. "If they could bless Stella and Somnus to cure it, why couldn't they do it themselves with their own power? They _are _more powerful than regular people. Figures that's what makes them gods, right?"

"They're gods, sure, but it'd work about as well as …" Gladio tried to think of an appropriate analogy. "It'd be like filling a glass with water by turning a hose on all the way."

"Overkill, pretty much?"

"Yup. The thing about the Hexatheon is, they solve things in broad strokes. They _know_ that's how they work. For little things that take more _precision_, they trust us humans to take care of it. Big problems, big solutions. Little problems, little solutions."

"A plague that wiped out a civilization is a 'little problem'?"

"Look, I never said the gods had an _accurate_ sense of scale."

"Fair enough. Still, though, this is… good stuff to know." Prompto looked back over to the lake and saw the others approaching. The book dissipated into glints of light as he put it away. "I'll read more later. Thanks, Gladio."

"You're welcome."

" … and if you ever think to skimp out on basic hygiene one more time, the next time Luna writes, I will snatch that book right out of your hands, and let her know _exactly _what you're like," came Ignis's unmistakable upbraid of Noct's poor habits.

"You think that's gonna scare her away?" Noctis patted at his matted down hair with a small towel — the bigger one was wrapped around his waist for modesty's sake. "She's had to put up with the stench of Imperials for years now. Real sure that me skipping a bath wouldn't faze her."

"They're _Imperials_, while you purport yourself to be her _boyfriend_. Entirely different contexts."

"Yeah, yeah." He dismissed the small towel with a flick of his wrist, and with another flick, summoned a shirt to his hand.

Ignis cleared his throat. _Loudly. _

Noctis grumbled, dismissed the shirt, and summoned a bottle of rosehip oil instead.

"Much better." Ignis allowed himself to relax, if one could call it that, by sitting in the chair beside Gladio. "After you're done, Noct, we can head first to Longwythe and see what the locals need there. Then, if there are no objections," he looked over to Prompto at that, "we make a trip to Galdin."

"No objections from me," Prompto said with a shrug. He got up from where he was seated and left to dismantle the tent, now that no one needed it.

Ignis and Gladio regarded each other with the same expression that said, '_Did you just hear that?_'.

Gladio leaned to the side, towards Ignis. "How long'll it take for him to regret that? I'll give him a day."

Ignis mirrored that. "Less than five hours."

"Deal."

They bumped elbows, and got up to help fold up all of the chairs. The equipment was all ghosted away into the thin air of the warp space. By that point, Noct finished getting dressed. The party left the haven while the sun was still up, and headed to the Regalia.

When it came to the 'old girl', Noctis wasn't far behind Ignis in fussing over her. The way Noctis talked about that car, she had a personality of her own, though Prompto was pretty sure her 'personality' _coincidentally_ aligned with whatever Noct wanted. For instance, when Noct stressed to Cindy that though the Regalia was _'a classy lady that liked to turn heads from time to time'_, she '_couldn't bear the thought of people gawking at her like a piece of meat'_ and also '_didn't like being treated like property'_ to justify why they needed to remove the hubcaps that bore the name of _Regis Lucis Caelum V_ and replaced them with ones that were just as fancy, only _sine nomine_.

( Prompto thanked goodness that the hubcaps only had the King's _regnal _name. He found out that it was short for _His Royal Majesty The King Regis Aurelius Maximus Michaelis Severus Livius Timotheos Caelum Quintus,_ _Rex Sacrorum, King CXIV to the Throne of Lucis, Keeper of Swords, Steward of the Crystal, Lord of the Grand Isle of Somnus and Related Territories. _He thought his brain was stroking out from the third name on in. )

Anyway, without the ostentatious hubcaps, all anyone would know about the Regalia was that she was a 'city car', but it was a leap from 'city car' and 'car owned by either the King of Lucis or his son'.

Ignis, for one, had been surprised the son hadn't gone the tacky route of slapping his _own_ name on the car. Noctis replied with distaste; no point in putting a name that wasn't even his.

Noctis remained bitter about being _Noctis Caelum III _( a formal name and not the full thing, titles and all - and he'd only gain the '_Lucis_' part after coronation ). Though admittedly, the way he told it, there was plenty to be bitter for, concerning that particular name. First, there was the suffix.

Second, Regis had announced Noct's birth a decade _before_ he'd actually been born. The announcement had thus given the public a head start on naming their own children after the supposed Prince of Lucis, in their hopes that the gods would bestow upon them so much as a kind word in blessing. Considering the number of men wandering Lucis with the name "Reggie", the naming boom was as certain as death and taxes.

Third, to sell that particular deception of birthdates to the public, King Regis had gotten a political decoy to match the supposed age of the false Noctis. _That _guy ran around with the formal name of the Lucian Prince and was involved in matters political while the real heir ran around with the commoner name of _Akihiko Izuna _and was barred from so much as a dinner with his father when it meant being under the scrutiny of anyone else.

Out here in the Lucian outlands, Noctis was free to use his first name without his surname, but he still had to train himself not to turn his head so conspicuously whenever an unfamiliar voice called for "Noctis", as it was likely for another guy or even another girl.

So yeah, bitter. And he took out such negative emotions by replacing the hubcaps on the car. All things considered, that wasn't the _worst _thing he could do to spite his dear old dad, and it at least delayed the possible hounding they'd receive from someone too curious for their own good.

Once they reached the car, they summoned all the camping equipment and set it back into the trunk, then got into the car as they had before; Ignis took the wheel, Prompto rode shotgun, Gladio settled in the backseat behind him, and Noctis sat in the other end, and he'd sneak in a nap on the ride to Longwythe. It was never too early in the day for a nap for him, even if he did just wake up.

As they went south and approached the parking area near Turncouth Haven, Noctis suggested they turn on the radio. Ignis tuned in to a news station; that he do _that_ went without saying.

It took a while to get used to the idea that the four of them were traveling Lucis and playing the part of Good Samaritans; that was something that Noctis cooked up. These trips were so that he could familiarize himself with the people he would eventually rule over whenever his father felt like giving up his throne… unless _that_ would go to the decoy as well.

Until that was decided, Noctis thought it best to take advantage of his hellishly low profile. If there was anything of the situation he could _appreciate_, it was freedom, though he didn't like the method in which he gained it, and he didn't know how long it would last.

Earlier on in their travels, arguments crept up between Noctis and Ignis about the succession, about how it would be decided, and when. Prompto caught bits and pieces of it, as listening to it in full was… _awkward_, to say the least. It was the closest he'd get to knowing what it'd be like if his own parents argued.

From what he gathered, Noctis's side of things was that it looked like his father didn't trust him, and was never satisfied with anything he did, not even his attempt at manifesting the Royal Arms of his forebears. King Regis was reticent about the line of succession, recalcitrant about the Ring, and that was the worst part. He aged almost thirty years in less than half the real time, while his life force powered the Wall that surrounded and protected Insomnia. He was wasting away in front of the public, in front of _Noct, _and Noctis couldn't understand why his father wouldn't save himself and pass the Ring down.

Ignis's side of the argument was that they had to trust in King Regis's decision. This was to keep Noctis safe, including the possessiveness over the Ring. Surely, he could see what a burden it was to have to wear it and devote the rest of his life to the maintenance of the Wall, unable to leave the Crown City. More than a burden, a _death sentence_. Any father would want to spare their son that kind of fate.

Noctis argued that that fate was inevitable; had been for the past hundred-and-fifty years since the Wall was first built. If his dad really wanted to spare him, he would have had another son.

Ignis said, that's what the decoy was raised for.

Noct was hurt that a hundred-and-plus previous generations of Kings would elect a fake Prince of Lucis over the real one. That the public believed the decoy was Noctis was one thing, but his own ancestors accepting the false Prince as worthier to rule than a legitimate heir was a different level of wrong.

Ignis's question then couldn't have been more cutting if he'd honed its edge across a razor strop.

'_You would wish the death of an innocent man, to prove your legitimacy?_'

Noctis never said a word about it again, though there were still times he would slow his pace when he walked as those thoughts bore down on him. Times when he'd stop and blink the redness out of his eyes, and his voice cracked when he said he was fine. They'd believe that lie, for his sake.

For now, Noctis wordlessly hoped for a best case scenario where his father saw sense and gave him the Ring, and until that time came, he would prove himself worthy by helping people.

Hence, the radio.

There was nothing important, so far. Advertisements for the various branches of the Crow's Nest Diner, for Wiz's Chocobo Post, for the EXINERIS Power Plant over west in Lestallum, and some tips on how to take refuge in havens, for any travelers afraid of being caught between towns after sundown.

That the havens were blessed by the Fleurets was a fact people accepted. No one ever reported a daemon sighting near any of them, much less an attack from a daemon. White magic warded off the plague, warded off daemons, too. It made sense, but left a question gnawing at the back of Prompto's mind.

"You guys… what came first, the daemons or the plague? I mean, does the plague make them happen, or the other way around?"

Noctis had already drifted to sleep, so he wouldn't respond, but the question made Gladio lift his gaze from the passage he was reading of _Origin of the Stars _with an awe akin to tracking the sun climbing over the horizon for the first time_._ "That's… never thought of that before. I'd say, the plague comes from the daemons. Daemons carry something the human body doesn't know how to deal with, they transmit it when they attack people, the people either get healed or they die. Like rabies or snakebites, but worse."

"On the other hand," said Ignis, "It would make just as much sense if daemons themselves were born of the plague. People contract an illness, and if left untreated, the illness progresses and alters their state, then leads them to attack others. That it mutates them into unrecognizable shells of themselves is the cherry on top of the… _unpleasant_ sundae."

Gladio raised a brow. "So, what, the daemons we're seeing now used to be people?"

"It's the only explanation as to why the _Origin of the Stars_ itself states that the first Caelum and the first Fleuret were tasked to _heal the sick_, not to _exterminate monsters._ Had the monsters existed already, the latter would be the case, and it would be written, would it not?"

Gladio opened his mouth to say something, looked at the page he was on, then back to Ignis. "I'll look into it, and check if anything ever mentions monsters or daemons in here. But I get what you're trying to say."

Prompto followed that logic pretty well, too. "If the books don't mention anything outside of people getting sick and dying that way, it's because Somnus and Stella nipped the issue in the bud before it got worse, and their descendants after were doing the same."

Ignis gave a single nod of confirmation. "Yes. Three guesses as to what's _not_ been happening as of late."

"Hrm…" Gladio hid his face with his book, though the concern was evident in his tone. They all only needed _one _guess to get it right.

With Luna as the acting Priestess of Tenebrae, and placed under confinement in her own manor by the Empire, there was a clear limit as to how many people she could heal outside of their supervision. They seemed much more interested in exploiting her political position, and only let her out enough to claim that they weren't _so _heartless that they barred her from carrying out her duties as heir to the powers of the gods.

And just as well, there was a time before she was appointed that title, a full four years where there was no one to ease the suffering of those ailing from plague. The absence of a Priestess was due to her mother's passing. Her mother's _murder,_ rather.

It was best that Noctis stay asleep for this. He still carried the memory of that day the Empire attacked Fenestella Manor, in contrast to what they'd released in their news reports. They claimed an _accident_ had taken the life of Queen Sylva and left her children orphaned. He knew what happened, and didn't let Ignis, Prompto, or Gladio forget it, either. The last thing he wanted to hear was his own friends '_parroting Niflheim's lies_', as he'd say, though less politely than that.

So, Noctis slept on through the ride. Or he would have, had the jingle of Niflheim's news network, _Kennaz,_ not sounded from the radio. From the sound of it, there was an audio talk segment coming up. Ignis turned the volume a smidge higher. Gladio shook Noctis out of his nap. Prompto made a face; _how is Niflheim's news getting this far out? _

Never mind, he knew the answer. The Empire was ambitious enough to invent _airships_ while the other nations relied on terrestrial travel; it was only natural they extended this to their communications, too — about as natural as breaching the upper boundaries of the planet could get, anyway. They did that just to send radio waves from one end of the world to the other. And they went further yet, in the past century.

Prompto couldn't shake the feeling of ants crawling under his skin, that overpowering feeling of _smallness_ the first time he'd ever seen a picture of the stars taken hundreds of thousands of miles out from normal ground, and the subsequent picture of the planet itself that one of Niflheim's spacecrafts had taken. They posted the pictures on the web to gloat about human ingenuity; he wondered if they hadn't achieved unsettling the spirits of everyone else.

Thankfully, they still could find it in them to chatter about more _mundane_ topics in comparison. And what was on the radio now was an interview with the Prince of Niflheim, the first of its kind.


	3. Asterid

**Chapter 3: Asterid**

"Morning, one and all, to this newest edition of _Torchlight_. We have a very special guest with us this hour — or, maybe I should say _I'm _the guest to his venue — sorry, it's just so early here…"

A quiet laugh followed after, followed by a voice that wasn't nearly so scattered and drowse-laden. "To be truthful, it only looks that way. The sun is still in the sky as it always has been, only that recent phenomena has made it seem like it's yet to finish rising."

"Ohhhh… oh, wait, I was — I was supposed to introduce you to the audience … "

"I spoke too soon? I apologize, please, go on."

"No, no, it was — it was my fault. I … okay, do over. Whoo! Morning, one and all. This hour, we have the pleasure of being at the estate of His Imperial Highness, Prince Asterid Aldercapt. Truly, it's an honor to be here. Thank you for taking the time out of your schedule to have us here with you."

"Please, the honor is all mine. And, you can call me Asterid. _Prince _Asterid if you feel you must, but I would much rather the name and not the title. We can reserve the formal address for my Lord Father. I'm sure he'll never have enough titles under his belt to choose from."

"Asterid, then. Rolls right off the tongue, that name."

"Does it? My mother made the right choice, then. You aren't far behind in that department, either. Efrain Sommer, correct?"

"That's — yes, you're right. You're a fan of Torchlight, then?"

"Of your work in general since before this program, I admit."

Try as Efrain undoubtedly might to place a bit of professional distance between himself and his interviewee, one could hear a near-breathless '_Wow'_ that the mic was sensitive enough to catch.

"Well, I'm — I'm flattered… though, I'm sure the audience doesn't want this airtime taken up by _me_. You're the man of the hour, so we're gonna get right to it. So, to start, there've been pictures of you circulating, of you actually making public appearances. Before recently, something like that's been rare on nonexistent for … reasons we'll be getting into. Just, in general, how do you feel? How are you?"

"I'm in good health, and that enough is a blessing."

"That's great to hear coming from you. Because I'm sure you're aware, that along with the pictures … there've been _rumors_ on the subject of you being up and about. Rumors that you aren't really _you_. Wondering how that would work, though, I mean, you're sitting right in front of me, and you seem real enough—" the interviewer broke off into a laugh.

There was a laugh from Asterid as well, a smooth and effortless chuckle. "Ah, yes, rumors that I'm a _changeling. _I've heard, though I'm not aware of the exact definition… people use it to mean different things."

"The general idea of changelings is that, well, it's when a child is kidnapped at a young age, as early as infancy in some interpretations. The child comes back to the family, but even though by all appearances they look the same as before, what the family has is something totally different. Not human at all, something from another world. So in your case, people are saying you got replaced by—"

"A _daemon?_"

Efrain's laugh came out unsteady; each bit of it carried all the trepidation of navigating a minefield. "A... yeah — I mean, yes. That's what people have been saying."

"That's strange, isn't it? A man seen in broad daylight and being accused of being a daemon anyway… and the idea that a daemon could look like a human at all…"

"It is odd, but I don't make rumors myself, I just hear about them."

"True… people will believe anything, even if it doesn't make sense to others. The rumors themselves have a _basis_ in fact, but the _conclusion_ is wrong. Of course I was averse to sunlight and open areas when I was young, and my physical health left much to be desired, but I've simply _gotten better_. I'm in a better place now than I've ever been."

"You are. You look and sound like it, at least. Though your childhood wasn't easy, from what we know. Not only were you sick and unable to leave your home, but your mother, the late Empress Escallonia, she was ill too, and … a death so early on in life is tough to deal with."

"It was difficult, for me and my father both. I tend not to think about it in terms of her no longer being with us. Best not to dwell on that fact, and focus more on how she was in life."

"How was she, then? What do you remember of your mother?"

"That is… tough to answer, I'm afraid. My health was so poor I barely remember anything outside of that fact. It's more of a haze. Still, I have an _impression_ of her, if I can call it that. Not concrete, but she was very kind, though saddened by my condition more than her own. It affected her deeply, I believe, not knowing if I would recover save for means outside of what my family was capable of providing."

"So… do you think you're … do you consider yourself responsible for — for what happened to her?"

Silence.

"I do… yes. At times the thought does cross my mind, though I know it defies sense. I could do nothing to _be_ responsible for, but in a way I… suppose that's where the feeling _stems_ from, focused on the 'do nothing' part. It took months, years for me to come to terms with survivor's guilt and put aside the thought that perhaps if I were stronger back then, she would be here. Outside of that, I find myself wishing I had more time with her. That my father had more time, as well."

"Mm… others had to help raise you, then, in her absence."

"Yes. My father hired caretakers for that. Tutors to handle my education. More people besides. They all helped. My father would say they helped me become the '_best version'_ of myself."

"And are you at your best? Would you think so?"

"Certainly better than before, but I have room to improve, still, I'd say. Not quite the best _yet_."

"Now, that refinement process, it wasn't easy either. Not to say _you_ were difficult in your youth, of course, I wouldn't be able to come to that idea from anywhere, but from older interviews with His Imperial Majesty … from those interviews, in his own words, he used to say that you were _lonely_. Even with so many people around you. Why would that be?"

"Oh, good, a _simple_ question."

Efrain laughed despite himself, and Asterid answered,

"If it's around the time that I _think_ you're speaking of, then … yes. I _was_ lonely. Well enough into my recovery that I'd be able to think things and be aware of my condition, still not well enough to do anything for myself. The latter fed into the former; I was aware of just how tenuous existence was, that I could easily lose my father as I did my mother. At least with my mother I was spared the memory of it, but with my father I would know close-to-exactly how it would happen if it did."

"You could've been an orphan at any time. You weren't worried about illness then, from the sounds of it. You 'expected', for lack of a better word here, something else?"

"Something _worse_. Even being an Emperor is no guarantee of safety. You've heard of those who disagree with the actions of my familial line?"

"Yes sir, of course. You were worried your father would be assassinated, then?"

"Or that I'd be used to get to him, whichever worked best toward that particular outcome."

"That level of awareness would be … even an adult would have a hard time dealing with that."

"Mmhmm. It was … how do I say it … in my heart, I had to have a tremendous faith in him, as any son would have for their father. Faith in him as protector, and protective of himself as well. Yet in my mind, a bit of the 'illusion' was gone. His power and influence were real and still is to this day, but he is not immortal, and is capable of mistakes, as are we all."

"I'm wondering if a lot of the things you've been doing as of late has been to… perhaps, show him that he doesn't need to worry about you anymore? You've already told us of your thoughts concerning Empress Escallonia, and I'm getting the sense that that might be extended to Emperor Iedolas, too, that you want to prove that he can focus on himself and his responsibilities to his Empire rather than exerting his power for your sake."

"That would be a way to put it, yes."

"So, do you … ? Sorry, for going back to this topic … "

"Mm? Oh, no, don't apologize for backtracking to _any _topic. This is an interview, after all."

"Ah … yes, so. Since your own memories are hazy, those memories of your mother… what would your father say about her? Did you ever ask him? _Have _you ever…?"

"I haven't, no. It didn't occur to me when I was younger, to ask him. We were both in mourning, so with how he involved himself more in managing the Empire, I … not his fault, mind you, but I feared aggravating him with questions. I think there are some memories of her he'd like to keep to himself, as well. Not because of selfishness, or malice, or things like that… but I don't think I'd have understood his responses if I'd asked him then. That she meant very much to him is something I _know, _but being told of something and having experience of it are rather different things, and I find experience to be a profound teacher. I think I'll be able to get an idea of his feelings for her on my own, through my own experiences."

"You plan on looking for someone that means as much to you as much as your mother did to your father?"

"Ah… not so much planning and looking, necessarily… if it happens, it'd certainly be nice. But I'm in no rush. Overthinking it wouldn't prove wise, either."

"Would you think of marriage?"

"Oh, no, not yet. That's a _very _long way off. If the circumstances aren't ideal, then it's best not to force it."

"Let's scale that back to just love and romance, then. What do you think of when you hear those words?"

"It's all a matter of letting things line up properly on their own time. When it's right, in both situation and person, then… I'll let you know, and you can come back and conduct another interview. You can ask questions of me and that 'someone'."

"It's safe to say your father doesn't mention anything along these lines to you, then? Doesn't push for grandkids?"

There was a quick huff of air, courtesy of a stifled laugh at the subject. "Oh, no, not even so much as a hint in favor of that. In fact, the only thing he ever had to say about it was that it would make him feel _old_. It'd be too much for him if he heard a miniature version of me call him 'Grandpapa'."

Efrain sounded like he'd entertained the mental image as well, and had a chuckle to himself. "Let's rewind from that for a minute. Before any talk about starting a family, there's still _meeting _someone, of course. You've already said you're not actively rushing that type of thing, but has anyone… you know, have you met anyone that's made suggestions of wanting to know you more, with that type of thing in mind?"

"Well, no one's ever said so outright… but if they've given me lovestruck looks, it's likely that I've mistaken that for the usual starstruck feeling around royalty. That tends to happen a lot."

"Being starstruck or being lovestruck? 'Cause the second one doesn't sound like much of a surprise to me. Don't forget, you're Niflheim's most eligible bachelor."

"I won't be forgetting _that_ fact anytime soon, though the way you say it, I might not be any longer if these admirers have their way of things."

"Haha, I suppose not! … So, say you visit the region of Ausiello, and you meet someone pleasing to the eye, and you and that person hit it off, there's chemistry, everything. Wouldn't you be concerned that they're around you because they _want _something?"

"Doesn't everyone 'want something' in a relationship? Though I do see what it is you're trying to ask. Ideally, these things _should_ be about mutual benefit and not exploitation, but there's still a difference between someone who is only there _with _you, and someone who is also there _for _you."

"Like that. Would you be able to tell the difference?"

"Oh, I would hope so. I don't think I would be here if I weren't a good judge of character."

"And what type of 'character' is it that you look for? Who'd be your 'ideal partner', your better half? If you have an idea, of course."

"If I had to say, I would … gravitate towards strength of will, someone who can face adversity and has conviction to see through to their commitments."

"Not to jump the gun, here, but it…"

"Yes?"

"... it sounds like you're describing Princess Lunafreya Nox Fleuret!"

"Ah… does it?"

"It does, it really does! As the youngest Priestess in history, she's done really well in that sense, healing people even without her mother serving as her guide like other Priestesses have before. That'd take the strength you describe. So, is that what's going on? Do you have your eyes on Lunafreya of Tenebrae?"

"... I've no doubt that she carries herself with dignity and strength befitting both her royal and religious positions in this world…"

"Oh, I get it… you can neither confirm nor deny that you're interested, in other words."

"That is the case. If I _were _interested, I would need to entreat her brother Ravus for her hand."

"Right, right, but he's part of Niflheim's Imperial forces, as just Deputy High Commander. Couldn't you just decide '_Well, we're hooking up and that's that'_? You're his boss, so how could he refuse?"

"I can see why you'd ask, but that's a dangerous way to go about things. To make things clear, he does not work for _me_ specifically. He reports to General Glauca, and Glauca reports to my father. That's quite removed from _me_ being his superior."

"Ah, that's right, that's true."

"Mmhmm. So again, were I interested, I would ask that Ravus give his blessing, regardless of our respective ranks in the Imperial Army. We are both civilized, and men of the sword, so to speak. I'd not behave like some common villain and have the Princess raptured away from her home without warning."

"That's good thinking, right there — if you went on a power trip like _that_, it'd rekindle tensions between the nations."

"It would, and that is no goal of mine. Tenebrae, like Accordo, is a protectorate within the Empire. We cannot rely on the fact that it has no military of its own and assume that gives us permission to do as we please with figures they hold dear."

"Still, there is the Kingdom of Lucis to contend with. To this day, they still have their own royalty _and_ their own military."

"They do, though they speak as if they don't. Their Crownsguard and their Kingsglaive are the same; supposedly a defensive force, yet who do they defend? Not the _people_. It's evident in their name. They serve the _crown_ and protect only the interests of the _king_ at the expense of others. The Crown City of Insomnia remains cloistered on an island miles out from the mainland. A paling protects only that area and nowhere else. The royalty is so disconnected from the common civilian that their land and people have suffered for it. Take, for example, the daemon attack in Galahd that left so many destitute. A stunning delay in the rescue response from King Regis, and the Glaives and Guards had _already_ existed then. That was a decade ago, and still, now, the people fend for themselves each sundown."

"How can the royalty leave people on their own, like that?"

"Through the _myopia_ they've adopted and called '_heroism'_. They hoard a powerful Crystal and exploit its energy to fuel their advances. That Insomnia thrives is fact, but rather than share their technology so their people can prosper, they have left the majority of their Kingdom, the 'outlands', to be treated as second-class, unworthy in their own lands. The King's refugee policy leaves much to be desired."

"What policy?"

"That's exactly my point."

Efrain let out an uncontrolled burst of laughter, bolstered by the seriousness of the Prince just prior. He choked back his chortles in an attempt to gather his lost composure.

"It's all a lot to take in, at your age. You're not even Emperor yet. Outside of accidents and daemon attacks that, yknow, people just can't foresee, for all intents and purposes, this is peacetime. In that case, you've stayed away from the worst of the war between Niflheim and Lucis."

"I have not."

"You … haven't?"

"War claims more lives than only those who fight on the battlefields. It continues to affect the people long after all factions have put down their arms. To assume everything is well would be to ignore the plight of those still affected, and it would be speaking without knowing. I may not sit the throne, but I still visit the people and make certain of their welfare myself. As important as is a position _above_ them, they must know someone is _beside_ them."

"Even so, there are still … you know, there are still people that don't have that trust in the Empire. People that just _tolerate_ the Empire and treat it as the lesser of two evils, or even the greatest evil —"

"Yes, of course. There are still those that place their faith in the gods instead of their fellow man. The same gods who slumber while humans toil in the wake of the gods' Great War, and suffer under the plague that came about from their fighting."

"Are the people _mistaken_ in believing in those gods?"

"I wouldn't say _that_. Of course, _they_ don't believe it's a mistake. I can actually see where they're coming from."

"You can? Explain that thought. You _did_ just say that the gods sleep and left humans to deal with their mess."

"I did, but it is comforting to think that the gods' powers are absolute. That, perhaps when humanity reaches its lowest point, the gods will simply awaken and fix everything with but a word. But do we _need_ to wait until the lowest point? Who, or what, decides when that is? Will it be when we've lost hundreds of innocent lives to plagues, daemon attacks, natural disasters? Should we wait for thousands, or millions to be lost? I say that we don't need to wait, we _shouldn't _wait. The evidence is in the very texts the people rely on."

"You mean, the Origin of the Stars… or the Cosmogony, in other terms."

"That's exactly the one. In it, it states that the gods appointed two individuals and bestowed upon them power, and that has been passed on down to the very last person in their bloodline. Yet the light of the sun has been noted as leaving our world day by day. Daemon sightings have increased. People grow ill. For humanity to yet need the gods' intervention would mean that the very same bloodlines they chose were _not enough_ to save this world. Doesn't that prove that the gods are capable of wrong decisions? What assurance have we that the gods will truly intervene and not simply appoint more people to act on their behalf? What if their solution is not to solve this with their own hands, but to throw more human bodies at the problem?"

"It'd all be guesswork. Even the books only chronicle what the gods _did_, not what they _will do_. And from what's written, they've been asleep for a lot of history as we know it. We don't even know when they'll wake up, if ever!"

"And I believe that we don't need to wait, or rely on guesswork. While the gods sleep, the Empire's Magitek troopers ceaselessly patrol our streets so that no living soul is obligated to brave such dangers. While the Kingdom of Lucis recruits orphans of war and the poor and destitute to make up their Glaives, the Empire would allow those same destitute to find a place in society away from battlefields _or _slums. They would prosper, instead of having their value assigned to them by the same system that would treat them as lesser and exploit them."

"Not all of their Kingsglaive are poor, I've heard."

"So have I. What is it… a grand total of… _one_ Kingsglaive member of noble blood while the rest are from Galahd or other outlands? I suppose that makes you technically correct."

"That's the _only kind_ of correct, Sir."

Asterid let out a comfortable laugh that one could imagine was paired with a nod of his head.

"A question for you, Sir. What do you think of them, of the Kingsglaive?"

"What I think? I think that while they have no doubt formed with the best intentions of each of their members, to protect their homelands, their efforts aren't well spent. If the gods already blessed the House Caelum with the Crystal, and a Ring with which to wield its power, why would the King of Lucis need further extensions of that power and yet keep them only in the Crown City?"

"Mmhmm, so again, like you said, they're being exploited for the benefit of the royalty."

"They are. Thankfully, the House Fleuret has long accepted that their duty is to their people, but the House Caelum has merely chosen a few to protect at the expense of everyone else. Then they cling to their past relevance as '_chosen by the gods_' to maintain that they are independent from the Empire and nothing else."

"Point taken. Do you think this is just because of their Crystal, and their magic? Or because, maybe, the gods told them that was how they needed to be?"

"Well… whether or not the gods told them explicitly that their calling involves inaction would be guesswork, as you said. What's not in question is that the Kings of Lucis hold a sense of pride in the work of their Founder King. The First King of Lucis _did_ banish the plague, after all, and was rewarded with the same Crystal they now 'protect'. But given the power of it, is keeping it hidden away _not_ a disruption of the forces of nature that they believe in?"

"It might be, but then again, who'd be able to tell them that and have them believe it? The gods aren't around to correct them if they _are _doing anything wrong, so that's reason enough for them to think they're right."

"Mm. Without the gods to guide them, they would have to reevaluate their role in this world and come to such a conclusion on their own, though… pride hinders that too, I've heard."

"Mind elaborating on the 'disruption of nature'?"

"Gladly. When a room is dark, what is your first reflex?"

"Turn the lights on."

"And if you walk down a dark path?"

"Use a lantern, flashlight … a torch —"

"And suppose you couldn't, because another claimed they needed the light more than you did, but instead they hide it away so that no one but them can use it, and even then, very rarely?"

"Then everything is dark," the interviewer drifted into a more comfortable chuckle, mirrored by the Prince's subdued laugh.

The news network's music began to fade in, and the interviewer continued, "Alright, well, after a quick break, there'll be more to come. Sit tight and stay tuned!"

* * *

A deafening silence fell upon the passengers of the Regalia, before Noctis's voice cut the quiet to ribbons with "_What a crock!_" It was a surprise that he'd actually kept shut for the duration of that segment.

Prompto looked back to him and noticed the death glare that was leveled toward the radio. If Noctis had been glowering any harder, the thing would short out.

The blond reached over to change the station. Maybe it—

"_**Don't bother!**_"

Flinch. Okay. He wouldn't turn it off, then. He withdrew his hand.

"Good. I wanna hear what he says next." The tone of Noctis's voice could wilt all the plant life within a ten-mile radius.

"Dude… you know if the Prince dies of a 'random and inexplicable' heart attack right in the middle of this break we're all gonna know you did it, right?"

"Yeah? That's better than he deserves. He thinks he can talk about _Luna_—"

"Wait, wh— _that's _what's got you upset? He talked about your dad, the gods, and you're latched on _Luna? _He didn't even insult her!"

"It doesn't matter! Who the hell does he think he is, sounding like he's interested?"

The fact that it was a rhetorical question slipped Prompto's notice. "He's… Prince Asterid?"

"Indeed," Ignis went for the save, "though for a first ever interview … one would have expected that he be a bit more _nervous._"

"You make it sound like Imperials feel _anything,_" Noctis said. "They're just as heartless as their robots; don't be fooled."

_So first he 'sounds interested', and now he's 'heartless'? Interesting logic there, _Prompto thought, but said aloud, "Really? He… he sounded pretty passionate about all that… all he said." Nonsense aside, it was much to take in.

He had never heard a person that sounded like every single ash-gray day of winter had been crammed into his voice. Not in the hoarse and raspy way that one would think of; it was a limber thing, in the way the wind managed to whistle through empty branches and shake them, and worm its way through sturdy wrought iron bars. A voice clear and clean, the intensity in it palpable without the need to raise the volume. It was, ah, magnetic? Soothing? There was something about it, perhaps either of those was the right word.

There was something else about Asterid too, though not him _directly. _Prompto tapped the screen on his phone to search for 'Escallonia Aldercapt'. "That '_changeling_' thing…"

Gladio sensed that the conversation was in need of his input, and gave a '_Hm_' of acknowledgment to Prompto's question. "The _kidnapping_ part is true— it actually happened to him, though he didn't admit to it outright. My old man said it was all over the news when it happened; little Prince Asterid of Niflheim, nowhere to be found. The Nifs claimed later that they found the culprit."

"Really…? Who did it, then?"

"If we believe them, then it was the Empress's hired help. Either jealous, disgruntled, or a rebel in disguise. Either way, they found someone to blame, though, y'know — some people want to say it _was _a daemon that'd stolen him away in the night. More entertaining that way; the _mundane_ story's the stuff of soap operas."

"Yeah, I get that," Prompto murmured.

He found pictures of Escallonia Aldercapt, née Dara. There was something dreamlike about her, in the sepia-toned photographs: her misty-eyed stares toward the camera oozed sentimentality, and even her _smirk_ was warm and fuzzy. He found photos of her in full color, and it wasn't just the old-timey tone of the previous photographs that gave her the chestnut auburn shade in her hair and the sun-kissed glow to her skin; she really _was_ like that. The photos of her with a younger Emperor Iedolas, maybe from the times before he was officially Emperor, were … well, they seemed happy together, like nothing could touch them.

But, the fact that she left the world without really knowing if her child would ever be healthy, or safe without her presence … it wasn't fair to her to leave with that uncertainty. He supposed it wasn't fair to anyone.

"So the rumor says the Prince is a changeling... because of the kidnapping, or because he was too sick to be seen anywhere?" Prompto directed the question to Gladio while his eyes remained on his screen. He was still sifting through the pictures.

"Both. _That _was on the news, too. Or, given his condition, _not _on the news. He wasn't even in the background when the Emperor would attend public functions. So in terms of the myth, yeah, that's usually how it goes. The kid gets taken, they're returned, but over time they get worse. That's the sign they're not normal."

"And…" He looked over his shoulder to Gladio, even when he could have regarded him via the side mirror. "How do they get cured in the myths?"

"Tossed into a fire."

"You're joking."

"He isn't, this time," Ignis said. "That is how changelings would—" He paused as if he reconsidered his wording— "I mean, to rid oneself of a changeling child … that child would be tossed into an open flame. The creatures that first abducted the human child would take their own out of the fire. It wasn't a guarantee that the human child would return to the family, but that's … that's the solution the people came up with."

"They should've tried that on _him_," Noctis grumbled.

_What in the—?_ Prompto's gaze snapped to Noctis in an instant. "Noct, why would you even say that?"

"Because it's _true!_ Scratch the speculations about he '_probably was_' a daemon. He still _is_ one. Nothing's changed!"

"He was just a kid back then, not a bona fide carbon copy of his dad or something!"

"You think that would stop him? Stop any of them? Doesn't matter how far the apple falls from the tree if the tree's rotten to begin with!"

Prompto's gaze flickered away like a struggling flame and he settled back into his seat. There was no talking to Noct when he was mad about something.

Still, it wasn't right for him to say all that; the Nifs attacked Fenestella Manor and left Luna and Ravus orphaned, but Asterid wasn't responsible for whatever schemes his father Iedolas hatched. Especially not back then. He was as much a kid as any of them were, twelve years ago. And just because he was sick didn't make him a daemon.

Prompto looked down to his open hand, and in his mind's eye, he could see his bottle of pills there. He supposed he and Asterid had something in common, with being too sick to stand the outside, though he knew from his own experience that it used to come in fits and flare-ups.

He used to wake up some mornings with everything in his body starting a revolt and his stomach doing flips. Whenever that happened, he had just enough energy in him to roll over and stick his head out of the side of the bed. The dinner he'd had the night before was gone with a heave into a bedpan.

He used to miss school from fever, trouble breathing, tremors and blurry vision and aches in places he wasn't sure were supposed to hold so much of that in them. His mother would similarly miss work, and he couldn't count how many washcloths were blackened from so much as wiping the sweat off of him.

Rare as they were, they hit hard and hit enough that they were impossible to ignore.

He grew up thinking that no one else was that sickly, but the Prince of Niflheim had gone through something like that, worse if he was never seen for years, and he probably _thought _the same thing about being alone in the world.

So… Prompto couldn't help but wonder if Asterid had a doctor to help him. It tickled his gag reflex to think that someone else had suffered without anyone to help. He hoped the guy had that someone, and wondered what that doctor said, if they existed.

The doctor _he'd _visited hadn't been too thrilled. Doctor Cassandra Meadow, her name was. She had the kind of eyes that looked like they could see right through the pit of someone just for kicks, and whatever she saw in Prompto, she didn't like. Sure, she filled out his prescriptions all the same, gave him enough refills to last a season, insisted that he call her at the first sign of an adverse reaction, but he could still remember her tone when she asked his parents, '_Do you realize what he is?_'

Did _she_ realize what he was? What was that?

The gloved hand that had come to rest over his palm hadn't materialized from nowhere, but it felt like it had, he was so lost in thought. _Lost _was exactly the word, even though that hadn't taken much more than a few seconds. He blinked at that hand, then looked up at who it belonged to. Rather than curl away at the touch this time, he found himself closing his hand over Ignis's.

He felt a twinge of guilt, too; Ignis wasn't in the best shape. If it weren't for the gloves, the white-knuckled grip on the wheel would have been evident, but the retainer kept himself together as well as he could.

They each had a connection to Noctis's magic, but maybe it was since Noctis had Ignis assigned to him early that it appeared like Ignis took a bigger share of the connection. Or it was his natural proficiency with magic that made it so profound. Point was that whenever Noctis cast magic, the other three usually felt the ghost of the spell skim their skin, and if his emotions were heightened, they felt the thrum of it in the backs of their heads in case he was in danger. For Ignis it was less a thrum and more of a dull headache.

Prompto didn't think it was much, but he gave Ignis's hand an appreciative and reassuring squeeze. Ignis gave a barely perceptible nod, and returned that hand to the steering wheel. It would be enough.

Gladio noted their touch, and said nothing. Instead he turned his attention to the prince that sulked in his seat and glowered at the distance.

"Noct, you gotta cool your tongue." Gladio put his book down beside him. "Asterid's a Nif, sure, but he's a _politician_ above everything else; he says things people already think, only they want to hear come out from somebody else's mouth so they can feel validated. Doesn't really help that he's right in some ways."

"The hell do you mean '_some ways'_?" Noctis growled.

"Uh, I dunno," Gladio affected the voice of a total simpleton, "_is _Insomnia part of mainland Lucis, or did we have to take a highway to get here?"

Noct's anger started to fizzle out when he said, "No… it's… not part of the mainland... "

"And, uh, _is _the Wall covering just Insomnia instead of the rest of Lucis?"

"... Yeah…"

"And have we _seen_ anybody from the Crownsguard out here, aside from us?"

"No…"

"No," Gladio echoed, with a return to his normal speaking voice. "Out here, there are Hunters, and other volunteer groups that live off the kindness of their neighbors. The only reason we haven't seen any MTs is because the Nifs have the good sense not to drop 'em on this side of the world. But that absence isn't something the people here _appreciate_, what with no help from any royal that they know of. They've still got Galahd on their minds, too. Maybe they _would _feel better if MTs were doing routine patrols; even the Hunters have been getting scarce. On top of that, the havens only work because the Priestesses of Tenebrae maintained it with their magic."

"But that asshole makes it sound like it's happening on purpose! Like my old man doesn't care! And the _Nifs _are the ones with Luna in their custody, controlling who she does and doesn't cure! You know that, I _know _you know."

"Yeah, I do," Gladio's voice grew more stern, "but what you need to learn is that there's _the truth_, and then there's _what people believe_. Sometimes those things are one and the same, and sometimes they couldn't be further away from each other."

Noctis settled into his seat, and a grumble of irritation left his mouth.

"Don't give me that, Noct. I'm your Shield, but I'm also here to help you get stronger in more than just the physical stuff. All the conviction in the world won't save you if you don't actually know what you're talking about. If you want to become King, you're going to have to learn to battle with more than just swords and magic. It's about wits and words, too."

"Fine…"

Ignis opened his mouth as if to say something, and Gladio spotted that with the rear-view mirror and said first, "Oh, and don't rely on Iggy to bail you out of any messes. An adviser's words are only as good as the ears that listen to 'em. He can guide you in the right direction, but he can't do _all _your thinking for you, and he can't help if you're stubborn. Got it?"

"Yeah, I got it." It almost looked like little curls of steam were coming out of Noctis's head from his minor peeve.

"... Took the words right out of my mouth," Ignis said.

Gladio looked proud of his anticipation skills. "What, you want 'em back?"

Ignis stuck his fist out toward the back seat. Gladio reached out for a fist bump but before they connected, Ignis turned his over and extended the middle finger to flip Gladio off.

"Love ya too, Specs."

Ignis smirked. Of course he appreciated the help, but he wouldn't say so.

The commercial break ended, and the four went quiet as interview was back on.

* * *

"We're back, part two of this momentous occasion. For those that are just now tuning in, this is the first ever interview with the Prince of Niflheim, Asterid Aldercapt. So as you've said already, Asterid, though you're not Emperor, you've still seen it as your duty to help people. Meet them at their level. Except you're not seen traveling by dropship, so how _do _you get around?"

"Oh, you're asking about _that? _Hm-hm-hm… Not a dropship. I'm aware of the connotations to those crafts. They carry our soldiers in them, drop them off, and leave. Now, as economically designed as they are, they're otherwise empty, made for only the purpose of carrying our Magitek infantry. That's not the impression I want to give in my travels, and merely giving a standard issue dropship a new coat of paint wouldn't solve that. Instead of such an imposing vehicle, I travel by _houseboat_."

"A houseboat? That explains a lot."

"Does it? I could give you a tour of it after we're done here. Or it can even be _part _of the interview, I don't mind at all."

"One quick question on that in order to mentally prepare; is it as large as this manor we're in?"

"Not nearly so grand, no, of course not. It's about the size of this room. A little slice of home, all things considered. Straddles the line between large enough for comfort, small enough that the Magitek Engines have no problem bearing the load. No matter what, this manor will always be the place where I hang my hat. Or, _would _hang one, if I bothered to wear one in the first place."

"I can see why you'd call this place home. Not just because generations of Aldercapts have lived here before; this manor's been standing for the past several centuries since it was first built, completely unchanged. _Brenna_, your ancestors called it."

"Yes, Brenna Manor. Sounds elegant, doesn't it?"

"It does, like it has a life of its own. So — you grew up here, and known the four walls of this place for most of your life. It's a big jump from being here to traveling the continent. How did you spend the time while you were here?"

"Reading, and taking notes in longform. There's a room upstairs with cabinets of the things I've written down. Notes on the gods and history, to the surprise of no one, I'm sure."

"Reading, writing, and research! Any other talents of yours we should know about?"

"Drink mixing. Would you care for a cocktail, after the interview? There's one I like to make with an ounce of pear _eau de vie, _an ounce of Ulvar icewine, half an ounce of lemon juice, four dashes of lavender bitters, an ounce of egg whites, all of it added into an ice-filled shaker, then served on the rocks. I like to call it _Nimbus_."

"It sounds like _exactly _the kind of thing that'll put your head in the clouds after a sip."

"That's the idea, yes."

"But how about something a bit more down-to-earth? This manor is a pretty spacious place to live in all on your own. Do you know its size off the top of your head?"

"Hah! I used to know that when I was younger. I used to see things as more imposing than they were. It _helped _to be exact and put numbers to things, to put my fears to rest. But it seems those little facts have slipped my mind and made room for new information. To me now, it just looks like someone kept building and building as if they were possessed."

"Looks like it! This place has ceilings high enough to fit a giant. _Has _a giant ever visited the place?"

"Not lately, no, but I will let you know what they think of it when they do take a look."

"That would be as great an occasion as this interview itself! For the most part, the age of giants is over. In the current world, you know, people, they're physically shorter than what they used to be."

"Haha! Yes, humans now only breach the halfway mark between six and seven feet if they're lucky or wear heels. What a tragedy that is, that we can no longer use juvenile oak trees as personal coat hangers."

"So sad. But even if not humans, there are…"

"The gods?"

"Yes, the gods, the Six."

"The Six is a rather outdated term. The people of today don't like to speak of the one they call the Infernian, I find."

"So, your notes, your research, your knowledge on the Origin of the Stars, it's all — it's all very connected with each other. Do you have insight on Ifrit and the rest of the gods that you want to tell us about?"

"Insight … an apt term. I have one, yes. That the Infernian was banished from texts and artworks not because he turned against humanity, but because he disrupts the narrative. Save for the fact that he existed, the world treats him as if he simply ceased to be after the Great War."

"Really? That's something you don't hear everyday. What's the narrative that's being preserved, protected as it were?"

"That he did nothing of note, other than create the plague and be defeated. But it would make more sense to keep this supposed Betrayer, this Wicked One, in the active consciousness as a warning. He's a ready-made adversarial figure to the God of Light and of the other elements, yet he is not spoken of actively at all. Depictions of him are not allowed, even worship is out of the question. The impression here is that what he did in the beginning holds more power and meaning than what became of him in the end, and people are not allowed to acknowledge that fact."

"Bestowing the gift of fire on humans outweighed his creation of the plague, you mean?"

"Yes. Giving humanity in _general, _not a mere chosen few, the means to advance civilization. His element paved the way for humans to create and build things, things we use to this day and take for granted. But the world has dubbed him Wicked, tried to forget of his contributions. Worse, misattributed them."

"Who else could his acts be assigned to?"

"Does _fire _not exude _light?_"

"… Oh… Wait, aren't you worried about — … this is not something the rest of the world wants to hear."

"They can choose to cover their ears to protect them, but these are my words and I will say them. There is no benefit to erasing the God of Fire and pretending the God of Light is the only one allowed to choose who moves toward the future and who stays stuck in the past."

"Well, why do you think — why do you think the people of today want to forget about the Infernian? Is it even that they _want _to, or are they _forced _to? What's your opinion on that?"

"It could be a bit of both. In an effort to appease the gods that remain, their believers will do most anything, and think whatever the gods want them to. Avoiding their ire is top priority, so I do not fault the people for trying to survive by what means they know of."

"Even though the gods are asleep?"

"Worship doesn't always make sense. I don't fault the people for that either."

"Sir — Asterid, I mean. You're saying all of these things, but …"

"Hm? You hesitate. As I've said before, ask whatever questions you have. Don't worry about anything like 'stepping out of bounds'; there are no bounds, here."

"Ah, right. So, you're saying all of these things, but how do you assign meaning to the gods' actions while they're not around to explain themselves? They were last active thousands of years ago, and haven't been awake at any point since."

"With the exception of the Glacian."

"Yes, with the exception of her, that's true."

"It's easy to forget; her awakening happened such a while ago it's almost part of the scenery."

"Why do you think she did that, over a decade ago?"

"I knew little of the reasons for such an event at the time that it happened, but what I understand of it now is that — if the correlation was on purpose, then she awakened in response to Queen Sylva's death. Her actions then provided plenty of explanation as to her purpose. Tit for tat, so to speak."

"She thought Niflheim was responsible?"

"Yes, but even now I question why. The accident that killed the Queen had little to do with Niflheim aside from our Empire taking charge of the newly orphaned children after the fact. Someone needed to take legal custody of young Lunafreya and Ravus; Ravus was not yet of age, even with being the eldest of the two."

"Did you meet the Prince and Princess back then? Have they been here before?"

"No, I didn't meet them that soon. At times I wonder if perhaps I should have. Perhaps Lunafreya would have benefited from having someone close to her in age to talk to, so that she wouldn't feel lonely. We… have something in common, against both our wills."

"Mmhmm … "

"Though I doubt the conversations would be so dour. I like to believe that we are all more than our losses. We can move on from our pain, and we have. For that reason, Ravus works with us and not against us, and Lunafreya continues to perform her duty as Priestess uninhibited. So, how could the Frostbearer hold Niflheim responsible when even those she thinks the Empire has wronged bear no ill will towards it?"

"The gods seem to think, ah, _differently_, than we do."

"That is exactly it. After all, the Glacian is _said _to be the most compassionate toward humanity, and she had sworn, as did her fellow gods, not to cause harm to the planet or its denizens. And yet she brought death towards more than half of the Imperial Army— _human_ soldiers, not automatons— and locked part of our continent in an unceasing winter. And had our army not been there, civilians would have been the targets of her wrath. They already were, but… _more so_, than the numbers that regrettably had to be reported."

"But even with the damage done, she was still defeated."

"She was, and for that we should all be thankful for the efforts of the Minister of Research, and his department. The mobile suits that Bestia's division engineered were formidable to begin with, but his work on the Magitek infantry is even more commendable. Even though that doesn't bring back the soldiers that gave their lives to defend Gralea twelve years ago, he has at least put an end to further loss, and we benefit from that work to this day."

"You're doing more than benefiting, it looks like; with all the information you've been attaining on the gods, you seem to be following in his footsteps!"

"Ah, that obvious? Yes, yes, he … he is a source of inspiration for me, I admit. It's not something I can help; someone that so soundly proves what the human mind is capable of is worthy of a great deal of admiration, don't you think?"

"You make a good point, but you also raise a question, here: isn't intelligence like magic, in that it's something only a _few_ people are capable of using to its full extent? Obviously, not everyone is a genius like the Research Chief, otherwise we'd be in labs ourselves!"

"Haha! Of course, of course, we can't all be the same way he is, but thankfully, there are various _forms _of intelligence that people can express. That, and he doesn't hoard his research the way a dragon does gold."

"Right, we benefit from his research, every one of us. Now, what about your relationship to the man specifically? Have you met him in person?"

"I did. I was around fifteen at the time, and I'm sure he made _some_ mention of wanting to keep me in his laboratory forever just to study me … haha! I'm kidding, I'm kidding. He wouldn't do that."

"So then, did he know who you were, all the way back then? _Aside_ from you being the Emperor's son, of course."

"He did, and that was … it was immensely humbling, in a very good way."

"Would you consider working for him in an official capacity?"

"I've never thought about it in depth. I love the outside too much to spend my time within the confines of more walls… though I wouldn't be opposed to the position he had before being Minister of Research. He did field work before that promotion, reporting to him wouldn't be a big deal at all. In terms of moving higher up that particular ladder, it impresses me that he's achieved as much success and received as many accolades off the field that he had on the field, but I'll let that be an accomplishment left untouched."

"What do you think of the Imperial Chancellor, then?"

"Hah, thoughts on Chancellor Izunia? That is a question best left for my father. Izunia is too much my father's 'man', so to speak, for me to have an opinion on them. But I can say they've also made great contributions as part of our Intelligentsia."

"All the traveling that the Chancellor does, does that appeal to you?"

"Are you asking if I would want to be in their position?"

"That's the question. Mmhm."

"Well, in the event that they were to abdicate that role while my father is still Emperor, I'm sure my father wouldn't mind my filling the newly vacant position. But as of now, Izunia is yet Chancellor and I have my own responsibilities as Prince, and our paths cross occasionally."

"Then, Izunia knows of you outside of your being Prince too? Knows about what you've been doing?"

"Oh, absolutely. I dare say the Chancellor has even taught me a thing or two about the gods, having done the same kind of research and exploration decades ago."

"Have you learned as much from Izunia as you have from Bestia?"

"I have, yes. The two of them are of one mind in terms of how they view progress and how the past holds the key to unlocking the future, only that Izunia is a bit of an _eccentric_, which I suppose angers the Old Guard. _Those_ types are obsessed with tradition, and also believe in forgoing the knowledge and methods remotely associated with our 'enemies' in some semblance of 'moral purity'. They're quite close to not breathing air or eating food, for fear that a Lucian has done the same."

"You say 'enemies' with a tone as if the Lucians are … _not_ the enemy. Am I hearing that correctly?"

"That is true. They're not. Despite what has happened between our nations, they are not the enemy."

"This is a surprise to hear, considering the war and all!"

"Is it? Have I explicitly called them enemies of Niflheim before now?"

"You … haven't, no, not at all."

"What if I were to tell you that there is no good or evil in this world, but only thinking leads us to believe so?"

"So, you're saying …?"

"That good and evil are a matter of what your goals are and how others' goals interfere with yours."

"What of the assassination attempts you mentioned? Against your father? Even those, they're just differences in points of view?"

"Yes. More of who will hold true to their ideals and how they express them, see them through to the end."

"And Shiva's attack on Gralea?"

"As I've already said, a misalignment between her thoughts of events and the truth of the Empire's involvement in them. Sadly, it seemed that she had conveniently forgotten her own values on _top_ of being misinformed. Though, while she proves that the gods are not omniscient, it means that they can be persuaded to believe in new things that they hadn't before. There's hope for them yet."

"And Lucis itself?"

"Even the fact that our nations had been at war for centuries does not make them enemies. They fight to protect their way of life, as do we fight to protect ours. A respectable notion, and one they can't be faulted for."

"Not even their royalty?"

"Supposedly sworn to their people, but they do not do right by their people. I'm sure they're doing right by _a certain few, _and we wish only to show them that their methods must expand, like ours have."

"Your experiences up until now, do you think of _those_ as good or bad?"

"_Enlightening_ now, even if they affected me negatively at the time."

"What would happen if — aren't you worried?"

"About …? What would I be worried for?"

"Attempts on _your_ life."

"What, right _now_? You are the only one here with me, aside from your crew of course. That the pen is mightier than the sword isn't something I take very literally."

"But — aren't you worried about if rebels or Lucians decide _not_ to attack the Emperor and focus towards you?"

"… They haven't before this point. I'm _sure _you've noticed."

"Hmmm… It's true that you've never been pictured with any, erm, any particular protective detail, but that doesn't hit us as peculiar — convenient timing in the photos, or today, even, we assume you've given them the day off …?"

"Day off? No. Never employed. You speak of bodyguards? I am my own. If those 'enemies' you speak of have plans to attack _me_, they're welcome to try them. The worst parts of my life are behind me, where they belong, but I'm up for a good _surprise_ or two."

"Sur— surprises…"

"That's all they are."

"You're … _brave_, for someone so young."

"Am I? The common people have no 'personal bodyguards' to defend them from every inconvenience. What example would I set, hiding behind others? Nothing more than a needless show of my position. Besides, I've gone without until now. I see no reason to change."

"You're in a different space, mentally, than what the people would expect. Even with all that's happened, you still find it in you to empathize with common folk, show no fear of future potential harm, and even… even the concept of good or evil is something you find beneath you. You intend on _reasoning _with a Kingdom on the other side of the world that's opposed the Empire for the past four centuries."

"All true, yes. Though if they meet us with violence this time, we'd have to reciprocate with equal force. Regrettable, but we surely can't let our Empire fall just because others disagree with it."

"Still, a regular person… anyone else would be fine not going anywhere. Not doing all of this that you're doing. Staying home where it's safe. This is all exhausting. Mentally, emotionally, everything. It's stressful."

"It is. I don't deny it. I have therapy for that."

"Therapy? How often do you go? Because this is a lot to unpack."

"Once a week. Used to be more often, yes, but it evened out. _I _evened out. As we mentioned before, refining me into the best version of myself wasn't the easiest job for those I was in the care of. I wasn't _always _like what you're seeing before you, I don't mean to give that level of unrealistic impression. I _was _paranoid, or as paranoid as an adolescent could be. Depressed, too. It was an experience, that combination. So many things, and you see, in my mind, at that age … I thought I had the whole world figured out. And the conclusion I'd come to was that, aside from my father and me, everyone else was false and plotted to hurt us one way or the other. I _did _feel lonely. I'm out of that mindset now."

"Mmm. So, along with the therapy… did you… ?"

"Go on medications?"

"Yes."

"Of course."

"Are you … right now?"

"Oh, absolutely. Daily routine. There's nothing wrong with that."

"Really…"

"Really. I won't tell you what I'm on, but I will say, there's little fault to be found in asking for help and receiving it from outside sources."

"Does it help? You started off by saying that you're in a better place than ever, but is this all why?"

"That, and no doubt the prayers of Princess Lunafreya. Perhaps I should clarify that there's no shame in seeking help and in receiving it from _multiple _sources. No one thing is the fix-all to all of our problems, whatever they may be. Sometimes, it's separate things working together that help keep one well, and sane."

"Don't you think that takes away a bit of your… _you? _Because, sometimes, medications, they take the edge off, but there are symptoms where they … aren't you concerned that your personality might be _numbed?_"

"Oh, no! No, no. Haha! No, if anything, all that paranoia, that loneliness, _that_ was numbing my sense of self. Who I am now is _despite _all of that, not necessarily _because _of that. I've persisted, and moved forward."

"Mmhmm."

"I am still 'Asterid', after all that's happened. When all of those other events are set aside, I'm all I'm left with. I have no fear of being anyone else."

"You are definitely you. That's something detractors can no longer deny."

The theme to the segment began to fade in once more, signalling the close of the interview.

"Unfortunately, while I'm sure our audience would love to know more about you, looks like this is all the time we have for today. It's been an honor, a delight in talking with you."

"Please, the pleasure is all mine."

"Thank you, thank you. We've learned a lot about you this hour, as well as where to find you and where _not _to find you. Most importantly, there's — there's plenty reason enough not to go against you. I wouldn't have too much hope for anyone that tried that. Just a thought."

"Ah, you make me sound _scary_."

"No — no offense."

"None taken."

"Thank you, again. And thank you, the audience, for joining us today."

* * *

As the news network's signature theme filled up the airspace before returning to advertisements, three of the passengers in the Regalia sat in their seats, silent again. Ignis continued driving toward Longwythe, and if he felt anything at all about what he'd heard, he didn't show it.

Prompto couldn't help but think that that reporter was right; the Prince of Niflheim was thinking on another level than a regular human. The talk of him not thinking of Lucis as the enemy? Safe to say the feeling wasn't mutual. No one to protect him? Even _Noctis_ had the Crownsguard. King Regis founded the Kingsglaive, too, just for him.

For _him, _though? Or for the _decoy_ Noctis?

It was hard to think of who benefited more from that situation.

"Gotta say," Gladio threw out to break the silence, "there's something about the guy that seems…"

"Appealing?" Ignis finished.

"Yeah." Gladio gave a single-shoulder shrug when he caught the look Noctis had tossed in his direction. "The guy makes himself seem honorable, intelligent, disciplined…"

"Maybe you should _date him_, then," Noctis drawled venomously.

"Noct, you can't act like that just because someone says something you don't like. Just saying, the guy sounds like he's an everyman." Gladio picked up his book again and continued to read. He searched for anything in the text concerning the gods and future plans. "I mean, the four of us are enough of an example to draw from; he must've said _one _thing that's in common with us. Like, he prides himself on being a protector."

"He pursues knowledge for knowledge's sake, and dabbles in the culinary arts," Ignis mused.

"He's… royalty, and had an absent mom," Noctis followed with a begrudging acceptance of the fact.

Prompto opened his mouth to say something, but the words died before he could give them a voice. What could he say? He could only think of… of his childhood, of the pills he had to take, and still took. He couldn't say that, not with Noctis's earlier tirade against the Prince of Niflheim. How to admit that that same Prince had said everything that Prompto needed to hear? He blinked rapidly and averted his gaze, looking out to the side of the road.

There wasn't shame in needing help and getting it. Hearing that come out of someone he'd never even met before… it really _did _help him feel better. Had to wonder how many other people needed to hear that.

Noctis only noted the silence. "See? Even Prompto doesn't believe that guy."

( "It's not that…" the blond said, his voice a hair short of 'audible', so of course no one heard it. )

"Don't make me repeat what I said earlier, Noct," Gladio said.

"If you don't want to, then don't! What about _any_ of what he said am I supposed to like? He makes himself seem reasonable, but he's a liar. They're _all_ liars. Like he doesn't know why the Glacian would attack them. Doesn't know what happened in Tenebrae all those years ago. Those were _his_ soldiers—"

"The _Emperor's_ soldiers," Gladio corrected.

Ignis shook his head at Noctis's accusation, too. "Asterid was a Prince then as he is now, except he was less mobile. And only an adolescent. You know very well how much power you _didn't _have in your youth, in terms of what the Kingsglaive and Crownsguard could or could not do," Ignis added.

Noctis kept his arms crossed over his chest. "Our situations are different."

"Are they?"

"Yeah. They _are._" The prince gritted his teeth in ire. He didn't _need _a refresher on how many times he'd kept pressing his father to send their soldiers out to Tenebrae to get Luna and Ravus out of there, after the attack. They could have done something, _anything_. Instead Regis did nothing, argued that the Empire had purposely left out the presence of Lucian royalty from their reports as some twisted 'gift' to the crown, and to send anyone more after that nearly-failed escape would constitute an act of war.

That, Regis argued, was also the reason why Luna and Ravus had chosen to stay behind in the first place. Had they been taken in the initial retreat, their absence would have been hard to ignore, and construed as Lucis invading Tenebrae themselves and taking the Prince and Princess away from their homeland.

Despite the sense it made, Noctis was sure that anything was better than what conditions they were forced to live in now. Lunafreya confined to her manor, and Ravus in league with Niflheim, the same side that killed his mother and exploited his sister. For how long had he been Deputy High Commander? Did that status confer any actual power to him, or was it just to shut him up?

None of it was right. And Noct couldn't get it out of his head, either, those mentions of Luna ( _not _Lunafreya, never, he'd _never_ call her that ) in the interview. Prince Asterid mentioned her prayers helping him get better. 'Possibly'. _Likely. _And 'help from multiple sources'…

He cursed under his breath, but not softly enough.

Gladio heard him and looked in his direction. "Something up?"

"Yeah … Look, you guys have a point. He wasn't responsible for what the Emperor did. So I guess Asterid isn't _lying_ lying when he says he didn't know, but …" The noise Noct made encapsulated what frustration he had in trying to articulate the connections his mind was making at a mile a minute. "His denials about the Glacian waking up, and about Tenebrae, he only denies understanding why at the _moment_ they happened. But it, the reason, might be why," he gestured with his hands to tell himself to hurry up and get to the point, "_he _might be the reason why it all happened. It has to do with _him,_ with that sickness he mentioned! If he was too sick to remember anything, he wouldn't have much to say about it except for what he found about later. But the Emperor _would _have all the details, he'd act for his kid's sake."

From the way Ignis looked up towards the rear-view mirror, he knew what Noctis was about to say. "You don't mean that…?"

"Yeah. Fenestella, and Luna's mother… it was revenge."

"Wait…" Prompto turned to look over his shoulder. "That'd mean that Queen Sylva — that'd mean she'd have said _no_ to healing Prince Asterid. Can Priestesses do that? Just _not _help someone who's sick?"

"An unprecedented act," Ignis said. "They're known to help all who ail, with no regard to national borders."

"But what if she _couldn't _cure him," Noctis said, "and the Emperor took it as she didn't _want to?_"

Prompto didn't know what to do with his hands, or his eyes, given that his gaze drifted back and forth between Ignis and Noctis. The words that came out of him were uncertain. "Maybe her magic doesn't really work like that, or the sickness was something different…"

"Mm?" Ignis gave a brief tilt of his head.

That attention helped convince him he wasn't being _entirely _dumb in his idea, so he kept going. "Yeah. Priestesses use white magic, and they heal the plague. The plague is pretty much magic, too, since it came from a god. And the whole rumor about Asterid makes his whole situation look like magic, but what if it's just… _normal? _Instead of stuff about his being a daemon, his issue was…"

The thread was easy for Ignis to grasp, and he nodded in assent. "He was traumatized from his incident and simply dealing with post-traumatic stress. Something like _that_ cannot be magicked away."

"What about the mention of Luna praying for him?" A vague note of irritation was crawling underneath Noctis's words.

"A metaphor, surely? If it was as simple as prayer to the gods, the Queen would have done it."

Prompto nodded and added, "Maybe it wasn't supposed to be literal? Say, he heard that Luna still wanted him to get better, and knowing she still gave her support helped motivate him to get help?"

The regrettable part of that was that maybe Queen Sylva had done that too. Only, if Asterid couldn't remember it, then it wouldn't work. It still resulted in the attack on Fenestella, and that was the part that made his skin crawl. How could Emperor Iedolas be capable of orphaning Luna and Ravus, just like that? Taking away their mother after knowing what loss was like?

Unless he didn't see it that way…

It was all about points of view, like Asterid said.

Strip away the ranks, the titles… it was just about a man that lost his wife too soon, a father that wanted his son to be healthy again. Wanting to keep him alive. If anyone were to get in the way of that… didn't that make them complicit?

Prompto stole a brief glimpse at Noctis, recalled that it was an accident that put him under the care of Queen Sylva, too. If he hadn't recovered from that, would King Regis have done the same thing to the Fleurets that Emperor Iedolas did?

If that had happened, would Noct still be this upset? Or would he think that Luna's family had it coming?

* * *

The four of them arrived at the desert town of Longwythe without further word, and Ignis parked the car in front of the Three Zs motel. Noctis made a beeline for the awning of the motel to get shelter from the sun, though it didn't look like they would be able to rest the night there if the need arose; a sign hung up on the receptionist window saying that the place was closed. ( There were still clotheslines full of shirts and pants, which seemed strange for an unoccupied place. )

Prompto stepped out of the car and let his tension out in a long sigh and a few quick scratches to the nape of his neck, then went towards the item shop just to look at things.

He hadn't realized he'd been followed there until he heard Ignis's voice behind him, "Are you alright?"

"Huh?" He turned around and caught the unmistakable tinge of concern in the other's features, and averted his gaze so as not to maintain sight of it. "Yeah, I'm fine. It's just … a lot to take in. Are _you _okay, though?"

"I'm… hm. I've been worse. Truly, I apologize for him. He tends to…"

"Tends to come out of his clothes?" Prompto offered.

A light snicker escaped Ignis at hearing yet another odd idiom. "Yes, that. He tends to do that at any mention of Niflheim, though I'm glad he cooled down closer to the end of that."

"Tact and manners aren't even in the same continent as him, is what you mean." Prompto gave a single huff of a laugh at his own words; _he_ was one to talk.

Before he'd ever made it in to secondary school, he'd already had a record of '_behavioral problems_', which he found was the nicer term for '_He has issues we would incarcerate an adult for, but this establishment is a home for learning and not punishment, so we can't do that, though we want to'_.

He didn't make excuses for it. He looked different than the rest of the children in school, and everyone knew it, and chattered behind his back about it. The other kids, and their parents. He'd heard the rumors that he 'came from nowhere', and the kinds of things that once would send him walking home with his head down and eyes to the ground, desperate for the earth to swallow him whole so he wouldn't draw any attention.

He heard the kinds of things that once sent him home and straight to the living room where his mother kept the photo albums, and he'd left them strewn in a mess while he looked for something, anything, to prove that he _had _come from his parents like every normal child did.

All he could find were pictures of his mom or pictures of his dad, separate ones from when they were young, their families. The places they'd been: parties, concerts, weddings, baby showers, awards ceremonies. Their marriage to each other. Them together. Then, Prompto was with them - him as a baby, toddler years, primary school, the time just after he lost his front baby tooth ( _so many_ missing-tooth grins ), and artless selfies where he was too close, or his thumb was in the way, or his chin was too forward, or he'd stuck out his tongue, or he'd puckered his lips and looked like a duck.

He stressed way too much about the fact that his mother never had pregnancy pictures or baby shower pictures of her own, and it left him wondering if the kids in school were right, if their parents were right.

When his parents told him the truth, he realized, he didn't need to prove anything to those idiots at school. The people he came home to were still his parents. They raised him, did more for him than they even needed to, more than he thought he deserved.

He didn't need to hear any of those kids' jeers and snide remarks. He didn't have to put up with the kids that would swipe away the camera his dad worked hard to get him for his birthday. He didn't have to put up with the kids tossing their half-eaten food at him to see if he'd eat it off the ground like the uncultured 'beast' they expected him to be. He didn't need to hear them talk about how his parents had _debased_ themselves trying to raise him.

So what else could he get with knuckles stained with blood that wasn't his, _except _a record of '_behavioral issues_'? The reputation came with that, too, even if the record itself wasn't made public. To the other kids, he was a 'demon foreigner'. He was easy to spot, and easy to stay away from. His blonde hair and violet-blue eyes were the perfect warning sign. No one would talk to him, and anyone that got close got pulled away by their next closest friend.

But he wasn't a beast.

He was just a pissed off kid, tired of sitting by and letting everyone else disrespect his mom and dad, and tired of being told not to rock a boat that might as well have been already capsizing. At least people learned to leave him alone. He'd been fine with that, with not talking to anyone. He only needed two people to stay his friends, and he could easily write to them.

But there was the one kid who just ignored _every _warning.

An outstretched hand held close to his face had Prompto looking up at the person that had bothered to stick it out. He saw a mess of jet black hair and blue eyes and a smile that was honest-to-goodness _dorky. _No other way to describe it.

Prompto looked down at the hand again. '_Why?_'

The boy shrugged. '_Well, because you look kinda lonely._'

Prompto scoffed. '_I'm not lonely, I'm just by myself. There's a difference. Besides… I'm not the type of guy you wanna be friends with. Trust me._'

'_Huh? Why not?_'

'_What …? Haven't you heard about me?_'

'_Hard to hear anything when nobody talks to me at all._'

The silence stretched out for what seemed like forever before Prompto asked, after much deliberation, '_... Well, that just makes you a loser, huh?_'

The boy didn't pull his hand away. Prompto had expected him to, but he didn't. '_A loser that stepped up to talk to a nobody,_' the boy said.

'So,_ what's your name? Can't call you a loser anymore, I guess._'

_'Call me … Akihiko. How about you?_'

_'Prompto._'

'_Prompto_…_ Well, I got you to talk to me, so I win!_'

'_Yeah. Sure, you win this time._'_  
_  
Prompto took Akihiko's hand. He thought, with a start like that, it'd work out.

Then it didn't work out, but that wasn't a story worth stretching out: in short, there were hard feelings after 'Akihiko' transferred out of the chemistry class he and Prompto shared, on account of Prompto having scored the highest in an exam that had been too difficult for everyone else. Prompto figured, he didn't need to deal with jealous brats that would turn on him if he 'acted out of script' and made them look bad.

Then he found out later that '_Akihiko_' was just Noctis under his commoner name, which didn't matter one way or another because when they met formally as the Prince and his newest Crownsguard, Prompto had greeted him with '_Hey, asshole!_' like **that** was his name. He hadn't known the guy was royalty beforehand, and he didn't much care. He didn't think it was important to know who '_Noctis Caelum III_' was if Marshal Cor still wrote him a recommendation letter for asking _exactly that, _with a four-letter word tossed in.

So, he was one to talk about 'lack of tact and manners'. He couldn't forget he had a mouth on him too. "I get that," he said aloud, and meant it.

"Still, it's not a justification to say what he did," Ignis said.

"It's not, but I can let it slide." Prompto licked his lips for a split-second and added, "You know I'm still mad at you, right?"

"For what?" Ignis gave it some thought for the span of a heartbeat and, "Oh." Then, "You aren't _possibly._"

"Oh, I can be. I totally am."

"I didn't tell Gladiolus anything _important_."

"Only that I liked birds and hate horror movies? Wonder where he got the idea of _zombies _from?" Prompto crossed his arms and shot Ignis his best accusing glare.

"Again, I had nothing to do with that. You're going to have to-" Ignis tried to stifle a snicker and it was akin to the sound of ice cracking. He couldn't help it; Prompto's nose had scrunched up in the way it did when he was upset about something. He wasn't going to say it was _cute_, but he would finish his earlier sentence- "you're going to have to take that up again with him."

"Hm."

"... Alright, so I _did_ have something to do with it. Your reaction to zombified dogs bursting through the window in that one game? Priceless. You actually swore off from playing the rest of the series after that."

"Not helping your case, buddy."

"Wasn't trying to."

Prompto was going to say something more, when a whistle cut through the air. They both looked in the direction of where Noctis had been standing with Gladio and one more, well, he wouldn't say 'person'. He and Ignis both approached the other two, plus Umbra, the black dog reclined at the prince's feet.

The first time Prompto met Umbra's sister, Pryna, he thought that they would stay the size he'd first seen her in, resembling spitz pups. The dogs had grown a lot in the intervening years, so the sight of Umbra now suggested anything _but_ 'pup'; Umbra looked more _wolf _than anything, but not quite there yet. Prompto wondered why, and concluded he was just bred to look that way. Ignis himself had taken a look at the dog one time and clocked a bit of husky, malamute, and maybe the graceful and limber structure of a greyhound in there. Pryna therefore looked the same; they were alike in most everything except color.

Point was, though, Umbra was here, and it meant he'd brought the notebook with him, too.

Noctis pulled his gaze away from his skim of the latest note, and acknowledged Prompto and Ignis with a quick nod. "Good, you guys are here. This note's shorter than the other ones she's sent, but she didn't leave any of you out, don't worry."

Luna had started to write to all of them in the same letter ever since a couple of years ago. A sound choice, as they would travel together often enough that her method of correspondence would figuratively kill multiple birds with one stone. Still, if she ever had anything to say to any of them separately, she'd send those separate notes with Umbra in good confidence that Noctis wouldn't peek, or request in the letter _to _Noctis that he deliver the other notes himself right to who she meant to send it to, and he usually did it. They were comfortable enough that that worked out.

For this note, Noctis read it out loud,

"_I hope this letter finds you well. Though if you are in the midst of an important errand or another, I advise you, do pay attention. If you're out hunting monsters, Umbra will be there to assist you; let him choose a weapon to attack with, if he's not in the mood to use his fangs outright._"

Noct gave a thumbs up to Umbra. "I'll let you know if we need ya, buddy."

Umbra huffed in response.

There was still more to the letter.

"_As for me, I am now allowed to travel to Altissia. They do not expect a delay in my return due to anyone in need of healing; Accordo prides itself on not needing my presence. Hence, this trip is something close to _recreation_. I've heard good things of the restaurants there, and will likely head to Maagho's. Please let Ignis know that he need not pray for me any longer._"

Noctis paused, then turned to Ignis. "Well, you heard her."

Ignis gave an exaggerated sigh of relief. "Oh, thank the gods. My knees were getting tired."

Not just him; they _all _thought it was a tragedy when Noctis informed them that Luna had _no idea_ that potato fries were deep fried in oil. Her attendant would _air fry_ them, and that was no way to enjoy a potato, Tenebrean, Leiden or otherwise. There was something so _comforting_ about straight-cut fries that had been dunked in oil long enough to get that golden brown, crispy-outside and fluffy-inside finish, and then sprinkled with sea-salt.

Noct's letter to Luna in response featured a picture of Ignis kneeling in front of a makeshift altar with an open cookbook and 'offerings' of the dishes he'd cooked, in prayer that Luna's tastebuds experience something akin to 'real food'.

Noctis continued,

"_I do plan on taking my time while I am in Altissia, to see the sights. There is a painting I've heard is haunted by a ghost. It would be best to verify with a photograph. Cameras do tend to capture the aura around things, but sadly, I am not in possession of a camera or a phone. The next best thing I can request is that you all come to Altissia soon, and allow Prompto to capture the scenery himself as well as the painting of 'Lakshmi'. He has a very good eye for these things."_

Prompto mouthed, '_Awwww, thanks, Luna!_' and made a heart sign with his hands. He switched that to a double thumbs-up in record time as soon as Noct looked in his direction.

He took it as a given that Luna didn't mention to Noct about the separate letters she sent to Prompto for the past six years _before_ the whole Crownsguard thing. The letters started ever since he nursed Pryna back to health, and honestly, Luna didn't mention Noctis by name at any point to Prompto, only that she had another pen pal while they chatted about other subjects.

With consideration for how much he then vented to Luna about 'Akihiko' being a jerk when _that _nonsense happened, she probably knew about that whole 'fake name' thing and it would have been awkward. And with how Noct reacted to Asterid's mention of Luna, and how much Noct insisted that Luna was his girlfriend _now, _safe to say that he was a lot worse years ago. If he found out Prompto was trading notes with her back then, it would have sparked the type of fight that'd end with one of them dead. But '_one of them_' was code word for '_definitely Noct_'. Not because Prompto loved Luna more, or whatever, but because Noct wouldn't have the good sense to end the fight fast, and not even in Prompto's wildest dreams would he let himself get his ass kicked by some guy mad at him over a girl.

Anyway, all Noct would see is a double thumbs up in his direction in response to what he'd read. He accepted it and kept on reading.

"_If there is anything I wish to change about this trip, is that I am taking it on my own. My brother does not speak to me often, not because he's forbidden to do so, but because his work is very demanding. I doubt he even has time for himself anymore. To Gladiolus: when you can, speak with Iris. She likely misses her older brother as much as I do mine._"

"Mm, can do," Gladio said. He was a man of few words, sometimes. Made sense; he was the only one of their group _not _to write to Luna at some point. Even Ignis sent a letter or two, though what they wrote about, Prompto didn't ask, and Ignis didn't ask any details of his letters either.

Noctis read the next portion of the note silently, and lifted his gaze so that it met each one of theirs. "Alright, storytime is over. This next part is for my eyes only."

Prompto let out a quick laugh. "Y'know, that just makes it sound like what she wrote to you is X-rated."

"Oh, it is."

"What, really?"

"Yeah. As in, X-_none of your business_."

"Oh, _ha ha_, Noct."

Noctis read the rest to himself, and Gladio found that his presence was needed elsewhere. Like, closer to the ground, where he could scratch behind Umbra's ears and earn a couple of nuzzles in return. While he did that, Noctis stepped away from the rest of the group to write at length into the next empty page in the notebook, and he would flip the page back and forth every now and then to be sure he caught all of what Luna wrote and addressed each thing.

Prompto could only half-swear that Ignis was responsible for having instilled a sense of thoroughness in Noct when it came to writing; the other half swore Noct did that all on his own, simply because Luna was Luna.

When Noctis finished his letter, he returned to Umbra and clasped the book shut and tied it around the dog, but along with the book was a separate envelope sealed shut with a sticker; that would be sent off, too. "You know what to do," he said, and Umbra barked in reply before bounding off to… frankly, who knows where. That dog was pretty much magic.

Ignis had long left to the provisions store to check up on what they had in stock. Gladio spotted someone in the distance, and acknowledged them with a wave before quickly gesturing to Noctis that he'd be taking his leave. Noct gave a quick nod, and his Shield left in the direction of the person he'd seen.

Prompto sidled on up to Noctis now that he was by himself. "I know. You're not gonna tell me."

"Then don't ask."

He laughed despite himself. "Gotta wonder why we see Umbra more than Pryna, though."

Noct shrugged. "I asked Luna to send him more often."

"Tch. Really? Come on. What'd you have against Pryna? She's just as faithful as her big brother, but twice as cute."

"Don't even start," Noctis said with a shake of his head. "It's for everyone's own good. Ignis threatened to cook her once."

"Uh… _what?_"

"To be fair to him, she pissed on his shoes."

"_What what?_"

"To be fair to _her,_ she was still trying to pay me back for tossing her out of a window."

"No, dude, when I ask '_what_', it's not a challenge for you to top the last sentence with something even crazier!"

"Well, it happened!" Noct shrugged as if to say, '_what else could I do?_' "I was eight at the time."

"... I'm _real sure _'don't toss dogs out of windows' is just something you _know _not to do at that age."

"Cut me some slack. Luna let me read the Cosmogony once and there Pryna was on the cover of the book, with wings. I thought, if she was an angel, that meant she could fly."

"And so, out the window she went?"

"Yep. She was fine, but she came back and let me know how she felt about that. Then she barked at me a bunch and Luna translated and said, '_Pryna vows to pee all over everything you love_'."

"And she did?"

"Oh, yeah, she sure did. You can even ask Gladio."

"Funny … she's never tried that on me. At all."

"Huh, wonder why."

They stared at each other for a good minute, just to see which of them would flinch first. The game ended with a smirk that crept up the side of Noct's face, and they laughed the implications away.

After that settled, Noct glanced over to where Gladio was standing, across the street at the Crow's Nest Diner. He gave Prompto a few pats on the shoulder. "Go get Ignis, and we'll meet up at Crow's Nest. Looks like Gladio's found something for us to do."

"Oh, sure thing."

Great timing for that, too. The whole thing about the letter had brought something to mind that slipped away in all the listening and driving and whatnot. He went over to Ignis and caught his attention with a quick '_Hey, Iggy_'. When he got the attention he sought, he summoned a small black notebook to his hand and offered it.

"Hm?"

"Noct wants us to meet up across the street for something. Before that, here's a little something for you. Don't think this changes anything, though. Figured, since you were driving earlier…" Prompto said nothing more to explain, and let his actions from during the drive do the speaking for him now. As soon as Ignis took his own book from the blond's possession, Prompto left him to his own devices.

Ignis flipped through its contents to the last written page. He found, in Prompto's handwriting, the list of ingredients that the Imperial Prince had mentioned in his interview. Of course Ignis couldn't let go of the wheel to record what he was hearing, whereas Prompto wasn't nearly so burdened.

At the bottom of the page were the words, "_That's it! You've discovered a new recipe~_" punctuated with a heart.

Ignis kept his amusement confined to a slight quirk of a half-smile.

* * *

The architect in charge of designing Brenna Manor had succeeded in the one job they'd been tasked with, if that job had been, '_Create something that could psychologically intimidate every single non-Aldercapt that would ever step foot into the manse, now and forever more_'.

There was a timeless quality to the place, despite the vaulted entryways, elaborate columns, and judicious use of corbels that screamed that it was built hundreds of years ago when that type of architecture was yet in style. Timeless even then, because the manor had remained standing for so many centuries since it was built, and likely would outlive them all and keep going for hundreds of years more before there was so much as a chip in the plasterwork.

Efrain was thankful that he'd conducted that interview with Prince Asterid in the ballroom, and not any place less spacious. The equipment could be set up without much trouble. The ceilings were high enough that one of the Six likely _could _fit in the room without needing to duck their head — perhaps not Titan, but one of the others. The concrete floors added to the ballroom's size, treated and waxed for the sole purpose of reflecting the view above and giving one the impression that they remained suspended in the air, merely stepping on a more pale version of themselves to stay aloft while the true floor was far below them.

Thankful for the location, but even with the size of that room, things seemed… _crushing_, in a way he couldn't put words to aside from just that. Maybe that feeling wouldn't have existed if he'd chosen the atrium, or even taken up the offer on the drink earlier on. He sat in the atrium now, and the minutes passed him by as he stared into the row of thriving alders sitting in the center garden. The glass had been drained down to just the ice. It really did take the edge off of things.

"_Do you have a moment?"_

Correction: It worked for everything except that_._ How in the world was he feeling that voice in his _bones?_ It wasn't even particularly **deep**, just _resonant_. He didn't know what else to do at the sound of it than turn away from the view of the greenery and direct his gaze toward the Prince of Niflheim instead.

Asterid looked like all sorts of things at once. Regal, clad in the white and red and gold of the Empire. But each Imperial put their own flair to the colors, had their own personalized thing. Asterid wore blue with the whites and reds, where his father wore black. Ravus Fleuret had accents of purple in his clothing, and Bestia replaced 'white' with overpowering shades of red and wore little gold.

The Prince's blue took over the left half of his otherwise Imperial white and red coat, giving him an asymmetrical scheme, and somehow that worked. Not even the left arm was the same as the right, covered up in armor rather than normal cloth. A full gauntlet— the pauldron, vambrace, everything— kept that arm hidden from view. And he didn't move it much, either, and instead used his right to gesture around for things. Maybe his right side was naturally dominant. Maybe his left was grievously injured and his right needed to compensate out of necessity and not nature. Hard to tell, and Efrain had a brief tinge of regret at his failure in asking, a tinge stomped on in a split-second with the idea that _it's something to cover for the next interview. _If there was one.

Anyway, Asterid looked regal, and old. Not _physically_ old; the guy looked like he'd just finished waving goodbye to his early-twenties. No, it was something else. Something about his looks that made him match the very manor he lived in. It's not that there was _probably_ a statue of him in the present day commemorating him for an achievement, but that the statue had _definitely_ been chiseled out from stone ages ago, and only now did a god decide to breathe life into it.

That could've been possible, if it weren't obvious that the gods weren't around to do that kind of thing.

So it was really just Efrain's eyes playing tricks on him, though he couldn't say the same for his ears. He still needed to answer the question. "Yes, Sir, of course."

Asterid's gaze flickered over to his left for a second. "No need to call me 'Sir'. Like I said, I'm not the type to obsess over titles."

"Still," it felt excessive to call a noble by his first name repeatedly, "you're a Prince. The Empire's Prince."

"I'm aware. Come, walk with me. There is something I'd like to show you. You can leave the glass where it is, by the way."

Efrain rose up from his chair and left the rocks glass sitting on the arm of it, and checked that he left nothing of his behind. He didn't have much; his crew had gone ahead with the equipment and the footage for broadcast later. The radio cast was done with the easterners in mind, since they were long since awake to be able to listen to it. Timezones were funny like that. Anyway, once he finished his check, he followed Asterid.

The hallways were just as grand as the rooms they connected, lined with portraits of previous Aldercapts. On either side was each ancestor, from the first one to carry the name on downward, but a majority of them were framed with dark red of alder wood. A gold frame was reserved for the Aldercapts of renown. Such as the one that united the different settlements and formed what would become the Empire, almost eight-hundred years ago. Then the one that declared war on Lucis, around four-hundred years ago. Then the one that brought the Kingdom of Tenebrae into the fold, a little over two hundred years ago. Emperor Iedolas had a space ready for his portrait; he was confident that the war would end once and for all in his lifetime. But he would have his image on the wall only _when_ the war ended, and not a moment sooner.

"How do you like it so far, in this place? It's not _too _overwhelming, is it?"

"I'm… surprised you could stand the place for as long as you have. That's all," Efrain replied. Any second now, and the portraits would be moving their eyes to follow the two around. Things were _just _that unnerving.

"Hm, it's a matter of… if you can handle sudden or 'inexplicable' noises. I'm not _entirely _by myself, here. The staff all do their part to maintain the manor, whether I'm present or not. They've been doing that for years, but they're very good at being invisible."

There were pictures of scenery next. Classic things like sunsets, the ocean, the industrial towns out east, and the mines in the Scarpa region, way before a giant tree took root there and overwhelmed the scene. Someone had even thought of painting Gralea when it was just a village. A fortuitous thing that was; save for a couple of books written after the fact, the painting had outlived the town. Landscape and manor both survived past it.

"Do you know why I chose you to conduct the interview? I'm sure you know, others have approached me with talk of it, but you are the only one I've accepted."

Efrain tried to figure out how to reply to that, but none of the words he was thinking of sounded right to say. "Luck? I mostly attributed it to luck. I mean, I'm new. I only started working for _Kennaz_ a few months ago, and was freelancing before then."

"That's exactly why, and not luck at all. Experienced enough to know of what you're doing, but new enough to this that it would help you, and enough that the fear hasn't hit you yet."

"Fear…?"

"Yes, of losing your job or upsetting my father or me. A lot of the older reporters, their experience lies in _obsequiousness_. In currying favor, not asking anything too _difficult_. I don't believe anyone else would have thought to ask me of my mother, for instance…"

Efrain was getting a distinct feeling that that was a mistake.

"... or ask if intelligence could be just as inaccessible to the people as magic."

_That, _Efrain would admit, was a good one.

He checked his surroundings. From what he knew of the floor plan, they approached the vestibule, and an exit would be within sight soon. "We're leaving?"

"Not yet. Something I'd like for you to look at."

The stairs in the vestibule were as grand as they needed to be, starting with the floor of the steps. A red and gold half medallion mosaic spanned the full width of the starting steps from one stone railing post to the other, and was patterned to look like the sun halfway over the horizon. The red was reserved for the edges and the background of the piece to represent the sky, while the gold was left for the smaller semicircle in the middle and the similarly colored 'rays of light' radiating out to the edges.

The twin staircases started a fair bit apart from each other, but as they led upward, each case curved in towards its counterpart and they met once more at the landing between floors. The next flight of stairs sent them apart again, and though they led to the same second floor, they went to different wings. 'Wings' sounded appropriate. The staircase itself looked like a dragon in the midst of unfurling its own and taking flight.

Or perhaps that was just what he was _led_ to think, since the first flight's landing had the flag of the Niflheim Empire draped there in full view.

The flag was exactly what Asterid wanted to place attention on. "Why do you think our crest is that of a dragon, Efrain? There are no accidents in design, but our flag has been like this for so long that we accept the creature as it is. Why a dragon, as opposed to something else?"

"Well, because …" Efrain motioned to it. "Dragons are imposing. Ancient. They represent authority, dignity, intellect, wisdom… all the qualities the Empire would want conveyed in a symbol."

"But there are _two _of them, not just one. Surely one would suffice for the message, no?"

"That's… that's true… I guess, that makes sense too, when you think about it. There's more than one way to interpret a dragon. They're also … they represent evil. Violence, rage. Destruction. Untamed power."

"Hm…"

"And, these two, they're not shown as fighting each other. It wouldn't be that hard to depict one dragon pinning the other down if one needed to win, but these two are the same. The same in everything except color. They're facing each other as… equals. Two sides of the same…?"

"Mm? Keep going, there's no wrong answer to this."

"Well, yeah, that's… about it. They're equals."

"Do you think that one is Lucis, and that the other is Niflheim?"

"I don't, to tell you the truth. They're both Niflheim."

"Oh?"

"Yeah, they're … one of them is the way that Niflheim sees itself, and the other is how opponents see Niflheim. Where the Empire sees itself as dignified and a protective force, others see … warmongers, destroyers."

"Suppose that Niflheim _had _to choose between one or the other. Between white or black, 'good' or 'evil', as it were… which would we be?"

"It's… not a choice. It's not something we decide right now."

Efrain caught the way Asterid watched him, as if he could coax more words out if he just stared curiously enough with his pale blue gaze. Efrain wouldn't wonder if it was right to continue speaking; there were no wrong answers to this, and he didn't believe he was saying anything threatening.

So, the reporter nodded faintly to reinforce his earlier statement and added, "Whether or not Niflheim is good or evil… it's decided for us. It depends on which side ends the war and tells the story afterward."

"I made the right choice with you," Asterid said, with a winning smile that suggested he was used to having whatever he wanted and that this was no different.

"But now I've got a question." Efrain gestured to the Empire's crest. "The flag for Lucis is totally different. No creatures; instead it's the shape of Insomnia and some symbol in the middle of it to represent the Crystal in their Citadel. Their 'Star of Lucis'. It's something a bit more 'real' in comparison. Wouldn't it have made more sense for _Lucis_ to depict a dragon on their crest? The god they worship is the Draconian, right? I mean, among other gods in the Six, that's the chief one. The God of Light."

"It would make sense. Yet they do not."

"Because it makes _too much_ sense?"

"Because their possession of the Crystal and their building of the Crown City is the _only_ thing they can be honest about."

"... Sounds like there's… an insight I might _not_ be able to record, here."

"No, unfortunately, you can't. There is more than this to show you."

He beckoned the other to follow him as he ascended the steps of the right staircase, to the westmost wing of the manor. As they walked, he spoke,

"In the interview, I said what I said about the Kingdom of Lucis, the inaction of its rulers and the gods when it came to protecting their people. That's not something even the most stalwart supporters in their continent can dispute or deny, only _justify_ with talk of '_gods behaving beyond mortal ken_'. But what I'm about to tell you is something much less indisputable."

"Still, it sounds like a serious 'accusation' to level, if you could call it that, by the fact that you're even thinking of it. I mean, the whole interview, you sounded sure of yourself about most everything," Efrain said.

"I did. Thank you. But don't think you don't share that quality yourself. Your questions weren't _questions, _to imply a note of uncertainty. They were more direct statements I could agree or disagree with. I admit I expected to give information of myself so that other people could hear, but you've gotten more out of me than anyone has in a long time."

They reached the end of the wing, which led to a spire with its own separate, winding staircase in either direction; to the West exit at the bottom, or to the top to have a view of the land that artists could still dream of. They ascended the steps for flights more.

"Draconian, the term 'dragon' itself…" Asterid mused aloud, "some say that it stems from the word _dérkomai_, 'to see clearly'. I say, our continent may be called 'Niflheim', but that we are shrouded in mist is not our own doing. Ask yourself, how could a continent only half the size of Niflheim at best, be the heart of the empire of old? How could Lucis be the place where Solheim thrived?"

Efrain tried to recall what he knew of that history, but places like Steyliff and Costlemark could be found on a map, and that they were even older than the four nations and housed equally ancient things was the worst kept secret in the world. The question was more of _what _they were, in terms of texts; four-thousand year old books were nigh-indecipherable in this age.

"Solheim's ruins are located there, aren't they?" he asked. "That would be the Kingdom's claim to legitimacy. You're suggesting that…?"

"That despite the supposed concentration of ruins, their kings were interred on _our_ soil, _our_ quarries are bled dry of their ore, _our _Empire has made the efforts to reignite the spark that created Solheim, and the First Priestess chose to found her Kingdom alongside _this_ land, and not alongside the supposed Founder King and his continent."

What motions Asterid made with his left arm were sparse as expected, but he lifted it enough to bend it at the elbow and hold it close to his chest. He still needed to keep it active, even if he didn't use it much.

"Not just that, but we know that the quarry in Cestino is overrun by a tree of enormous size that our scientists are still trying to make sense of," he continued. "They cannot hope to understand it by regular means, because it didn't _originate_ by regular means. The ground there would be inhospitable to any seed planted in it. That tree couldn't exist as it does, nor have grown to the size that it did, not with so much runoff as a byproduct from the mining."

"Except…" the connections were forming in Efrain's mind, and they were more fearsome than even the conclusions that had been reached an hour before, "If the tree was an act of the gods. The gods can do whatever they want, doesn't matter how impossible it seems to us."

Asterid gave a single nod to that. "Indeed. They can grow healthy trees out of polluted soil, drain a cascade… turn grasslands into permafrost."

They reached the top of the spire, and Asterid unlocked the wooden gate barring them from a view of the outside. It swung open with nary a creak, which suggested either recent use or proper maintenance, whichever came first.

On the eastern side of the caldera where the city of Gralea sat in, was the corpse of the Glacian slumped against the rim and staring lifelessly in their direction. The blow that finally felled her had to have been quick; there was no expression of wrath. Just resignation, even with the impossibly long spear that pierced the back of her head and exited above her right brow, and the second spear embedded into her back. Her arm had been torn away and her torso was ripped into as if by a beast sinking its fangs into her flesh, but that must have happened after she died.

All just part of the scenery by now.

"There's the saying that three may keep a secret if two are dead. I believe that's what's happening here." Asterid approached the parapet and motioned toward the lifeless body of Shiva. "The Frostbearer attacked Gralea. The Landforger blocked our access to our own mines. There's a secret they try, or tried in her case, to protect. He, by eliminating our ability to grasp it. Her, by eliminating our people outright."

For a moment his gaze lowered to the foot of the tower. He looked back up at the dead goddess, and then turned his gaze away from that entirely and directed his attention to the reporter. "The gods know we can defeat them," he continued. "They now resort to using their believers to do their dirty work without endangering their own lives. There's a reason why I didn't call _Lucians_ our enemies, Efrain. The _gods _are the enemy. The people that worship them are being used like tools to get rid of us. I'm not even sure they're aware of it."

This was a lot bigger than a war, Efrain realized. Even the fact that the war had gone on for hundreds of years wasn't enough to capture just how important _this_ was. The origins spun all the way back to when the gods first went into slumber, thousands of years ago.

Still, he had to ask for a more obvious connection. "You think it might be connected to the previous collapse of Gralea? It almost seems like the capital is cursed. I hate to use that word, but… that is what it sounds like. Cursed by the gods."

"Cursed, or its very presence is the source of secrets that even the gods fear of being uncovered. But I _will_ find out what it is they fight to hide. Now, it's about time you return to the city. You're going to have your work cut out for you."

They descended the steps and returned the way they came, and stopped at the vestibule once more. An imperial caravan arrived to pick the reporter up and return him to the busier section of the city, closer to harsh weather but hopefully kept warm enough that the bitter howls of the wind would seem like quick whistles.

Brenna Manor was still a summer home in comparison, as if the Glacian's dying blizzard had the good sense to go nowhere near it or the surrounding lands. The 'perpetual sunrise' effect that had come over this side of the world made the manor incandescent.

Imperial soldiers descended the caravan and kept the door open for Efrain to enter first, but before he would leave, Asterid held his hand out. The left one.

"Speaking with you was a pleasure I'm sure is bound to repeat itself soon."

"Really…" Efrain took the hand and shook it. "Don't know how to thank you for the opportunity, Asterid."

"It won't be difficult. We'll have another interview, and you can thank me with your continued presence then. You noticed the space reserved for my father's portrait, yes?"

"Oh, yeah, I noticed. He's going to end the war between the Empire and the Kingdom soon."

"He will, but that portrait won't last long without company."

… Efrain thought that perhaps like his eyes had done before, the nerves of his hand were playing tricks on him. It felt like Asterid's hold on him had grown **crushing**.

The Prince of Niflheim pulled close to the reporter and whispered,

"My father will end the war, but I will end the _gods_. The Glacian is dead. The Archaean will be next. As will the others that interfere. Understand?"

Efrain understood in the way a mouse understood cat claws sinking into its fur.

He stumbled toward the imperial caravan as if dazed and entered it without a word, flanked by the patrolmen meant to see his safe return.

The prince waved the vehicle goodbye, and returned to the manor's confines once the caravan was no longer in sight.

As soon as the doors shut, he breathed deep and let it out slowly.

"... I don't recall keeping _pets _in this place, but you are a persistent one," he said, his gaze landing squarely on the dog waiting for him at the foot of the steps. It had fur light as frost, and trotted over to him as soon as it had earned his attention.

Asterid bent down to pet it, as people tended to do to dogs, and caught sight of the tag on the collar. _Pryna. _

Pryna tilted her head up and craned her neck to draw attention to the cylinder secured around her neck.

"For me, I take it?"

He unfastened the cylinder and opened it, then drew out a slip of paper from the container.

"Hm…"

It was quite a simple thing his eyes beheld.

A wolf insignia stamped on the corner of the page, the seal of Tenebrae.

The words,

_I wish to speak with you.  
_  
Signed,

_Lunafreya Nox Fleuret P R  
_  
Asterid kept his amusement confined to a low hum.


	4. Messenger

**Chapter 4: Messenger**

It didn't take long for Prompto and Ignis to join the others at the front of the Crow's Nest, and at the sight of their arrival, Sania gave each of them a nod in recognition. "Just in time."

Noctis gave the two a quick nod as well, before he turned his attention to the researcher. "Alright, now that we're all here, what's up? Gladio said it was something super important." Noctis crossed his arms and awaited to hear the explanation.

"It is. It's to do with the Hunters as of late. Not at all about frogs this time, so nothing to worry about on that end."

There was a brief twinge of sadness on Noct's face, either as if he had happily _expected _the issue to be about frogs, or perhaps it was alarm at anything that suggested that the Hunters were in trouble. Gladio himself had noted the absence of them. "Another monster on the loose? Is someone missing?"

Sania shook her head. "Everyone is accounted for. The problem originated in the highlands west of here, near the Aletheia."

Most people knew the body of water as _the Forgotten Pool, _southwest of the Malachi Pond, but Sania could be trusted to call the pool by a proper name. After all, why would anyone call the place '_Forgotten_' when everyone knew about it and it had an accurate placement on the map of the kingdom? Whoever had forgotten it in the first place couldn't get upset about that, could they?

Noctis nodded at the good news that the Hunters weren't missing, but he noted the lack of answer to whether monsters were loose. "Is it too dangerous for Dave's crew to go there?"

Prompto was wondering the same thing, to be honest. _Why __**are **__we here in Longwythe if the problem is down there?_

Sania pushed up her glasses. "I'll tell you outright, but there is the chance you won't believe me."

"Why not?" Prompto tilted his head. "We've caught weird frogs before, with all sorts of colors and weird water-skating powers to match." He pressed his lips to a tight line to make sure no word left his mouth on what _they _could do; as far as the doctor knew, they were nothing but exceptionally skilled 'finders of things' and not a prince and his retinue, capable of black magic and summoning weapons from thin air. She even mistook Noctis as being an actor in a play, which was funny. Weird, but funny.

As if to answer her question, the door to one of the rooms in the motel opened. A figure stepped out, draped in a dark and heavy leather gown that brushed their ankles. No part of them was uncovered, in fact; they had matching boots, gloves, the gown sported long sleeves, and the mask on their face was reminiscent of a bird— a crow, maybe— and they wore a wide brimmed hat. They only thing that suggested that they were human at all was that they walked on two feet, had four limbs total, and were taller than they were wide.

That figure, who or whatever exactly they were, looked to Sania and gave a single nod. She returned it.

"We're clear," she said, and motioned for them all to follow her back across the road to the Three Z's.

The crow person kept their head bowed as they entered the motel room, and said nothing.

The sight of the room spoke for itself.

The establishment in its entirety had been transformed into an impromptu infirmary since who knew when. The single beds were placed on alternating sides of the room for the crow person to walk to each one without fear of collision, and each bed had an unconscious hunter resting on it. They were still breathing, but not much else.

The crow doctor went to one patient and gingerly took a cloth that had been placed on the patient's brow, then placed it into a basket that rested at the nightstand close by. They procured a clean cloth and folded it into a strip one hand wide, and set it into a basin on the nightstand filled with water and infused with herbs. The crow doctor let the cloth soak, then placed it back onto the unconscious hunter's head. They went to each bed and did the same for each hunter, before returning to the first to observe.

Prompto couldn't help but make some observations of his own. The room itself smelled sweet; from what he could see, the nightstands beside each bed had not only its own basin of infused water, but its own smudge pot. The pots were small enough to fit in someone's palm, and whatever was burning in it was potent enough for the scent to carry across the room. It'd helped that the door was closed until not long ago.

On recollection, the place smelled like Doctor Meadow's office. That wasn't a bad thing by any means. Her bedside manner was pretty lacking at times, but she sure made her environment seem welcoming and not harsh. She kept some long and leafy plants for decor, and their scent helped. She had even given Prompto one of his own to take home and care for. She called the plant 'Silvestre', which made him think of the funny-talking cat that pursued the canary but kept getting thwarted by either the bird or the kindly old lady that owned it. Come to think of it… geez, that whole line of association did _wonders_ for his doctor's image. There was nothing else to help with that though, ever since his doctor left Insomnia a few months ago. He wondered where she was.

But that was neither here nor there.

Point was that his doctor had a plant, and this place smelled just like it. It was probably the same one.

The room had been devoid of noise enough that the crow doctor's low and gravelly voice broke the silence. "There's good news and bad news."

"Give us the good news first," Sania said.

"The good news is that none of these hunters are infected with the parasite, that we know of. I'm seeing no symptoms, but there _could_ be something of the parasite that affects them that we can't see with the naked eye. Their clothes are outside being sunwashed; we spare no precaution in these matters."

"And the bad news?"

"That if this hasn't at all to do with the parasite, then it places their condition fully in the realm of the unknown. At least with the plague, these people could find relief with the scent of Daemonsbane, and a hearth fire to bring to mind the light of the sun. If anything worse, we could pray that the Priestess is allowed to come to this side of the world and heal the afflicted. That this may _not_ be a plague at work makes that all the more difficult." The crow doctor added more herbs to burn in the smudge pot.

Prompto slipped away from the rest of the group and approached the bed the doctor was standing beside. He got a good look at the first hunter, and felt a pluck at his heartstrings. The girl was younger than _he _was, closer to Iris's age from the looks of it, and could've been Junior Crownsguard had she lived in Insomnia. It didn't _feel _right, that she was part of the Hunters so soon. She should have been in school, making plans for parties, updating the school newspaper, or forming a band with her best friends as her life's dream.

Yet… it didn't _really _matter how he felt about it. The fact was that she was a Hunter, and so she was trusted to put her life on the line and do it _without _the benefits of royal magic backing her up. She must have proved herself already, must have been strong. Still would be, _when _she recovered.

"She looks like she's sleeping," he said aloud.

"That's the impression, but they've stayed in this state for the past few days, now," the crow doctor replied.

"The best action we've taken is warning Dave and the leaders of the different hunting divisions so they do _not _approach the Aletheia at night," Sania added. "I believe there's a connection between this and what's there."

"So…" Prompto scratched the side of his face in curiosity. "What _is _in the Aletheia?"

"Butterflies."

Noctis raised an eyebrow. "Say what?" They _all _heard what she said, but… she was right earlier. That _was _hard to believe.

Sania flipped back a page on her clipboard to check her notes. "From my observations— not close up, mind you— it seems that the butterflies that roam the forest near that pool have evolved thanks to the longer nights. The same way the frogs have mutated to have varied colors and abilities, the butterflies near Aletheia have become more like… fireflies. They light up in the night to warn away predators. It's a sight to see, but…" she shook her head. "It comes at a cost, if you get too close. I suspect that the mutation has an added effect so that they're harder to catch, and moreover, they avoid any form of a struggle and damage to themselves even when they are caught."

"By… knocking out whatever caught them?" Prompto motioned to the 'sleeping' girl.

"Mm. Exactly like that."

"Is there a certain characteristic that we should be on the lookout for? A way to identify them?" Ignis asked.

Sania nodded. "There is. I have just the right thing to show you, and it's better that you see it in action. It's in the next room over."

"Alright, lead the way," Noct said.

They followed her out of the room. All of them except for Prompto, anyway. His gaze still flit to each of the hunters in deep sleep, and he felt the shift of air as the crow doctor moved from where he'd been standing and went to the second hunter.

"Um… Sir?"

'Sir' was in the midst of adding a fresh smudge stick to the second pot and letting it catch flame enough to smolder. "Call me Doctor Beak, if you will. Everyone does."

Prompto nodded. "Okay. Doctor Beak, then. The… Daemonsbane you mentioned…"

"Mm. It goes by many names. Depending on where you are, it could be called '_Astera_' or '_Silvestre_'. All its names are correct."

_Huh? So it __**is**_ _the same plant… and the people here use it against the plague?_

He hadn't realized he made a noise until Doctor Beak said, "You sound uneasy."

Prompto shook his head. "I… no, I mean… my doctor used to keep those in her office."

The crow doctor let out a low hum. "The plant is prolific enough that people will have it just to have it. It's a household herb, and its presence doesn't hurt. It makes for very good tea."

Prompto was thankful that subject wasn't broached on whether Doctor Meadow treated patients infected with the plague. Even _he _didn't know how to answer that, though he knew she was a specialized doctor. He was just prone to sun-sickness and a host of other terrible symptoms, would still be suffering from it if she hadn't intervened.

( While Prompto's gaze was elsewhere, Doctor Beak had given the blond a once-over and determined that if he _were _infected with the parasite, it was either cured early enough not to be a problem anymore, or the medicine was potent enough to make him look indistinguishable from an uninfected person. That was good, and something that he would have to mention to his superior. )

Prompto went over to the next bed, and felt another tug. He couldn't help but allow a frown to form along with it. The young man on this bed looked about the same age as the girl. They were both brunettes, though this guy had longer hair and wavy bangs. Prompto had the distinct feeling that the two hunters probably hung out together, but where he imagined the girl being friends with Iris, this guy would probably fit well with Gladio. Maybe they'd compare notes on how to pick up girls if Gladio didn't immediately assume the role of 'mentor'.

"Did you try anything else to help them wake up?"

Doctor Beak had gone to the pot beside the third hunter and fed it more herbs to burn. "They will not respond to pain."

Prompto made a face.

The Doctor was quick enough to catch it, enough that it was safe to say that he'd _expected_ that reaction. "Oh, nothing extreme. A needle to the fingertip or toe. That usually startles people. But they sleep the sleep of the dead, or something close."

_The… sleep of the dead?_ Prompto turned around and obscured his summon of the down feather, made it look like he'd truly fished the item out of his pants pocket. He presented the 'phoenix' feather to the crow doctor. "Maybe this would work…?"

The crow doctor stared at the feather before regarding it and its holder with a slow nod. "A reasonable idea, but I've already tried it. They don't stir from the scent of a down feather, though they would if this were a normal predicament. It's as if something blocks their senses entirely."

"Oh…" Something _worse_ than Noct's condition? That _was _terrifying. He stashed the feather away.

"You had the right notion, though," Doctor Beak offered as consolation. "Perhaps a more potent mixture of spices beyond what's supplied for the Phoenix Down _could _work, if only we could find what that mixture is. There's risks associated, of course. Allergy or other intolerance."

Prompto nodded. "We'll figure something out."

He got a glance at the third hunter, and saw a head of unruly and dark brown hair that just _barely_ covered a scar that ran from right to left across the young man's face. Could have gotten it from hunting, but it looked too clean and _singular_ to be from a beast claw. Probably got it in a fight with someone, then. Prompto had to wonder if the third hunter hung out with the other two as actual friends, or if he was the loner kind of guy that 'tolerated' them. His perma-scowl suggested the latter.

So Prompto thought, inflicting Noctis on the third hunter would either get him out of his shell, or Noctis would be talking to a wall. But Noct already heard that he was a 'loser' before; someone giving him the cold shoulder wouldn't faze him.

"_Hey, Prompto!_" Speak of the devil ( or _think _of him, rather… ), Noct's voice was just outside.

The blond had almost forgotten that the others left the room without him. He motioned for them to wait a bit, even though they wouldn't see it. "I'll be right there!" He turned back to Doctor Beak. "Sorry, I gotta go. But…"

"Hm?"

"Is Doctor Beak your _real _name?"

"Heh. Of course not. Like I said, it's what everyone _calls_ me. I'm sure you can tell why."

"Yeah, I can." Prompto smiled. Before he took his leave, he bent at the waist and gave a deep bow to the doctor. "Thank you, Sir."

"Oh?"

The blond gave short little nods to support his gesture. "You're trying to help these people. Where no one else thinks they can help, or that they're not supposed to… that you're trying means a lot."

"You thank me in their place."

That was one way to put it.

Doctor Beak did something that he himself considered rare; he took off his hat, revealing a short, shaggy cut of hair that was matted from hat-sweat and caused the 'crow' moniker to gain five more levels of appropriate. The doctor held the hat close to his chest and gave a bow of his own, then put it back on.

"Your concern for them is appreciated, as well."

Prompto smiled bright, and finally took his leave to join his friends. He made sure to shut the door behind him and leave the doctor to his work.

( Doctor Beak took note of the boy's name, and that he was very interesting indeed. )

* * *

Noct shot Prompto a '_What's up?_' nod as soon as he saw him. "Took your time."

"Yeah, I found out that Phoenix Downs don't work on them. What'd I miss?"

"Not much. We went into the next room over and saw more of the same, except there was a butterfly in there."

"The same kind…?"

Ignis made a so-so motion with a hand. "Yes and no. Doctor Sania explained to us that there are two strains of the butterfly we're to search for. Blue, and red. The blue ones are benign; one landed on the palm of her hand with no change in her condition. The red strain, of which there is only one, is the type that could pose a threat, and likely already has."

"What are we gonna do, then?"

Noctis made a 'finger gun' motion with his hand. "We're gonna catch as many of the blues as we can, so that Sania has something to study. The sooner we get there, the better."

"Heading to the Forgotten Pool this early? What'll we do with the rest of the time?"

Noctis got a sly look on his face that the blond should have recognized and instead couldn't place, but Gladio completed the understanding for him. "Noct's gonna spend all that time fishing."

If Prompto could give the _concept _of fishing a sideways glance, he would have. For now he directed that glance over to the Prince himself. "For real?"

"_Tch_. If it helps you feel better, we can eat lunch here _before_ we go over to the Forgotten Pool. At least then you won't be bored _and_ hungry."

That would suffice for an acceptable deal, and it was a good thing that the car was parked so close by. They hopped back in to the Regalia for a short drive from the Three Z's motel to the Crow's Nest Diner to save themselves another road crossing after lunch.

The door to the diner came open, accompanied by a telltale chime. A waitress was ready to greet them.

"Welcome to the Crow's Nest! Name's Dianthe, and I'll be your server today. You all feel like sitting at a booth, or would a counter suit you more?"

"We'll take a booth, Miss!" Prompto said before Gladio could open his mouth to say the same.

With a quick nod and a '_Wonderful_. _Follow me_', the waitress took four menus from a nearby rack and led the group to a booth for them to have a seat in. She set each menu evenly on the table and waited for them to sit while she got a notepad.

"Can I start you all off with a drink?"

"Yeah," Noctis said. "A club soda with lime and mint for him," he pointed to Prompto for that, "a regular soft drink with a lemon slice for him," he pointed to Ignis, "and then two soft drinks with cherry and vanilla mixed in."

"Oo, you definitely sound like you've been here before," Dianthe said as she wrote each drink down. "Sometimes people ask for some really out-there flavors they got all the way in Old Lestallum but not everywhere else." The part where she'd otherwise need to list off their still-extensive repertoire of flavors for patrons new to the diner went unsaid. "Alright, I'll be back with those drinks. Feel free to let me know if you need anything else." Her gaze went to each of them in quick succession before she left to the back.

That left them each to their thoughts, give or take a quick skim of the menu to decide what it is they wanted to eat. Prompto already knew he was going to order a beef pot pie, though. Wasn't quite like the lemon beef stew his mom would make with all the fixings, but close enough on short notice. His mind was already made up on that, so all he had was to lazily kick his legs back and forth and look at his surroundings.

The diner was quaint and cozy, functional and samey. Each branch of the diner looked like the identical twin of any other version of it around Lucis. Gladio had already told him the history of that too, when they first stopped to eat at one.

Story goes that each Crow's Nest was built out of a high-capacity freight car, and each freight car came from the train that first carried the supplies to construct the town known as Old Lestallum. ( The _new_ Lestallum was further north— that was usually the one that people referred to when they talked about "Lestallum" in general. )

Once that work was done and Old Lestallum was built alongside the Wennath River, the first freight car in the train had its wheels removed, got propped up on some stilts and breezeblocks, and it became the first of the diners. Only thing is, the Old Lestallum diner had the additional bonus of a sleeping car attached so that that diner doubled as an inn.

The other cars afterward took one last trip around Lucis to form the different branches strewn around the mainland, until just the locomotive was left. All of the cars were refitted with seats, a counter, booths, the whole works, with a nifty facade on the outside to give it a warm, homecoming feel. Though if someone knew where to look, they could find the car number that still connected it to its origins, and of course Gladio knew where to look. He still had the pictures of the trips he made with Ignis to visit each site in order from the last car to the first.

So Gladio had been to every diner before. Tried it's food before. But he'd never seen this particular waitress before, with her dark-to-blonde hair styled into straight bangs and soft ringlets, and a red hair bow resting at the top of her head. It was so obvious that Gladio was intrigued that even Prompto noticed it, so earlier on, Prompto had caught Noct's eye and signed '_check it out'_. Check it out Noctis did, and they resolved **not** to let Gladio get a word in edgewise to her.

That conspiracy didn't go unnoticed. "You guys know _I_ usually handle the orders, right?" Of course they did. Gladio had asked the question just to ask it.

"Oh, sure, but we wanted to give you a rest from that." Noctis rested his elbows on the table. The whites of Ignis's eyes got more visible at that, and he quickly swatted at Noct's elbow to get them down. Noct swatted him back; if he wasn't actually raised like a Prince and ran around with a commoner name at one point, he couldn't still be _expected _to act like a noble. Plus, having to keep his elbows down all the time was annoying. That was his _likely_ thought process when he did his counter-swat.

Gladio huffed. "You guys decided on the seating and the drinks, that's fine. But I get to order the food, got it?"

Prompto himself propped his elbows on the table and rested his chin in his hands ( and Ignis had _no_ reprimand on hand for _that_ ), leaning conspicuously into Gladio's personal space. "Why? We already know what you're gonna say."

"That so? Prove it."

A grin spread on Prompto's face that said that that was a poor choice of words.

Dianthe returned with their drinks and placed them in front of their respective drinkers. "Club soda with lime and mint, regular soda with lemon, and two cherry-vanilla mixes. You all decided on what you wanna order, or you need more time?"

Gladio was _this close _to saying something—

— but Prompto stopped him with a hand to his face and said, "Don't worry, I got this. Lemme do this for you." He cleared his throat,

and then?

He did his best imitation of Gladio's rumbling baritone with, "Alright, a beef pot pie for Blondie here," he motioned to his own spot on the table. "An open sandwich for Specs over there," he pointed Ignis out for that one, "with everything on it, and make it look pretty because he's big on presentation. Next up is a club sandwich for the _visual kei_ wannabe," which was obviously Noctis, "and make sure you top that one with black olives. He likes his sandwiches _extra angsty_."

A useful note to consider: that it was Prompto's best attempt at an impression of Gladio wasn't quite synonymous with it being spot-on, but Ignis suffered yet another fit of ice-cracking stifles of laughter, Noct himself was close to a laugh if that visual kei comment didn't send his spirit right out of his body and into the next life from the sheer brass that it took to say it, and Dianthe attempted to hold her composure while her gaze flit from Prompto to Gladio, whose expression grew closer to a picture definition of 'absolute mortification' with each second the impression went on.

"Dude, no," Noctis said, waving at Prompto to put a pause to that joke.

Gladio thought he'd be saved,

until he heard,

"it goes a little something more like this." right before _Noctis _tried his hand at a deep voice.

"And for _yours truly_, a Garula sirloin with garlic butter and mushrooms on top of that. I'd prefer if it's done rare— so rare, that if you have the whole Garula, I'll take it as-is. As for the sides, that'll be a side of mixed veggies, and a second side of _your number_." Noct concluded that with a wink, a grin, and some finger-guns.

"Mm-hm, mm-hm…" Dianthe had written most of the order down, and had pursed her lips to a tight line to prevent herself from any sound that would have involved actual words.

Gladio felt himself have an out-of-body experience in the meantime, and he wondered who he must have angered in a past life to deserve what he was getting. "I _swear _they're not usually like this..."

The sound of his real voice thwarted Dianthe's attempt at silence, and a squeak of a laugh slipped out. She covered her face with the notepad, though it didn't hide how her shoulders shook.

"I… I think I've got… _hehehehe_... everything down. I'll be back with your orders in a… in a bit, okay?"

"Take your time," Prompto said in his normal register.

She picked up their menus and left, and the four of them were alone to bask in _whatever _counted as an afterglow of that entire ordeal.

"Well, that was certainly… an experience," Ignis said.

"Sure was." Noctis looked a little proud of himself. His impression was closer to the real thing.

It didn't matter to the guy on the receiving end of that joke, though. "Should I kill you and Blondie now, or later?"

"How about never?"

Resignation was all over Gladio's sigh, and he looked over to Ignis. "Iggy, you're gonna have to look away for a while. I'm about to commit regicide."

Prompto raised a finger in question. "Given who it is, shouldn't it be '_commit Nocticide_'?"

The glare shot in his direction made him slip under the table and find his new seat between Ignis and Noctis.

"I was thinking that too, actually…" the prince admitted.

Ignis pinched the bridge of his nose and tried even harder not to laugh.

As the seconds and minutes wore on, Gladio rethought his life choices, and pondered on his current path. Maybe he could quit his role as Shield and let Iris have it, move to another country, change his name, become a monk for the rest of his days, cast aside his earthly tethers, take a vow of silence and everything. He'd do that, and meditate away all the shame from this event even if it took him a decade or five. Yes. That was a solid plan.

He hadn't known how much time he spent ruminating, but it was long enough that Prompto felt no danger into moving back to his previous seat, and the waitress came back with the platter of their orders.

"Here you are, exactly as ordered. Or… close enough," cue a conspicuous look to Gladio.

He kept his face as neutral as possible, save for the quirk of his eyebrows in interest he'd yet to divest himself of.

"We couldn't get you a whole Garula, but here's a little something to make up for it." Dianthe pulled out a napkin, set it down where he could see it, and flounced away.

Once they were sure she was out of sight, all eyes landed on that slip of paper. The napkin had her name and number, with a _Figured you must've been too shy to ask me yourself, _and a winky face.

Gladio looked at that thing like it was manna from heaven, or like his soul returned to his body. Then he folded the napkin into a neat and smaller square and tucked it into his shirt pocket, giving Prompto and Noctis a nod each as if thanking them for their business. "Gentlemen."

Prompto and Noctis stared at him as if _their_ souls had fled this earthly realm.

"There's no way..." Prompto murmured.

"_B-bakana…_" Noctis's head almost hit the table from the absurdity. Ignis was nice enough to move Noct's plate and let it happen.

"No, really, what did I just witness?" Prompto was _sure _Ignis of all people would have an answer for this, as an outside observer.

Iggy had something close. "It's as the note said. It seems in your efforts to embarrass Gladiolus, she construed it as a pair of friends helping him out by using humor to get on her good side and make his intentions known."

"But all we did was make a pass like he usually does just to show how dumb it is!" If it were possible to eat something petulantly, Noctis did exactly that with the olive on his sandwich. "Are you saying his game's legit?"

"No, I'm," Ignis waved that notion aside, "I'm simply saying that life, uh, finds a way."

"... Where the hell does your accent go when you're doing these quotes?" Prompto was still in disbelief.

Ignis pushed up his glasses, with a smirk exuding a level four smugness. "I'm not telling. Still, this avoids a ride where Gladiolus is either catatonic or sulking, so…" he gave a nod of his own to them, "Thank you both, _Blond Gladio_ and _Short Gladio_."

Noctis looked at Ignis like he didn't recognize the man sitting beside him. "You know Prompto's shorter than me, right?"

"I know what I said."

Gladio was too occupied eating his food to join in on the conversation, but best believe he savored the hell out of that steak, and had the biggest smile when the waitress came by to ask if they found the meals to their liking.

* * *

They rode out west and turned south until they reached the designated parking space between the Malachi and the Aletheia. It was a quiet ride, save for when Gladio would hum a victory fanfare that would cause horror to flash across the faces of both of his unintentional wingmen.

Noct yawned occasionally during the ride, too, though he didn't catch a full nap. Prompto wondered how that could happen, when Noct had taken a nap not that long ago, and he was in the midst of actual sleep not long before _that_. He'd said once that he and mornings didn't get along very well, but this was to the point where he may as well have opted to wear pyjamas on his trip and carry a sleeping bag instead of a sword.

Once the car reached its destination, though, any trace of sleep left him entirely. He was out the car and down the road in seconds, toward the dock of the Aletheia. Ignis, Prompto, and Gladio weren't in so much of a hurry to get there, but that it was past noon came as a small comfort. They could all find something to occupy the time.

The road and sparse fences guided them to the pool, vast and cordoned off with a chain-link fence. The columns and arches that jutted out from the water were as ancient as ever, and still a little unsettling. Prompto wondered if there was something down there related to the ruins that were littered around Lucis, but it looked like it'd be a long way down, and everything of worth was too sunken to risk a search just yet.

Prompto and Ignis took a seat on some rocks just beside the pool, to give Noctis some space. They'd give the prince some silence in the matters of commentary on his fishing skills, and watched as Noctis cast his line into the water and waited for a fish to bite.

Noct would reel the line back in a little at a time to entice whatever was beneath the surface and trick it into thinking the bait was hapless living prey. On occasion there was a bite and a struggle; either the potential catch swam away with the bait, or Noctis got one more rainbow trout to cook for dinner. And there was a lot, a _lot, _of rainbow trout.

The blond sighed and slumped a bit. "Man, where does he get the energy for this when he's about to conk out every other minute?"

"Fishing is yet another pastime for him." Ignis shrugged. "It's useful for him, teaches him patience."

Prompto scratched the back of his head. "Doesn't do anything about his sleeping habits, though."

"Mm. Unfortunately, that part is something he can't help, only manage. A history of anemia runs in his family, though his ancestors found a way to mitigate the symptoms."

Noctis wasn't so far away that he couldn't listen in on their talk. "So have I," he chimed in, "What else have I got you for?"

Ignis exhaled sharply, already feeling tired. "You are aware that that means _I _solved that problem and not you, correct?"

Noctis shrugged, his attention still focused on the water. "Yeah, but you're considered an extension of me, so I'm taking credit. I have to."

"You guys," Prompto made a 'time out' sign with his hands, "no arguing this time, just an explanation, okay?"

"Okay, in that case… anemic. That's the gist of the whole 'tired' thing. Most of what Iggy cooks for me is with that in mind. And I can't just stuff myself wi—" pause, he realized where that sentence was headed, "I can't live off of steak for breakfast, lunch, and dinner, so, I catch fish. Gotta include beans in my diet. Spinach is a maybe. Olives are good, too. You made the right call adding that to my sandwich."

"Huh, I did? Heheh… how perceptive of me. So…" Prompto looked at his own hands for a few seconds before staring ahead towards Noctis, "I guess having to share your magic doesn't help that whole 'tired' thing, does it? All that summoning we do."

"Summoning regular stuff is fine, and I don't feel that different when you guys use magic than when you're not, not counting all the funny background noise in my head…" Noctis got a quick scratch to the back of his head, ruffling his jet-black hair more than normal. "But the Royal Arms of all the other Kings before me? That _really_ takes a lot out of me, but it depends on how many are out." It seemed the mere mention of that caused Noctis to yawn.

"It does more than that," Ignis corrected and directed his next words to Prompto. "Once, and _only once_, Noctis attempted to summon _all_ the Royal Arms of the deceased Kings."

"All of em? No way… If Noctis is gonna be the 115th King, and his dad's still kicking, that's… a hundred and thirteen Arms."

"There's an exception to be made for Somnus's Royal Arm, which may still be buried with him. He either was unable or unwilling to pass down his Arm to his heir… or perhaps that was simply something that hadn't yet been perfected in his lifetime."

_Unable or unwilling… sounds familiar_. That Prompto's gaze landed on Noctis with that thought was inevitable. "So, Noct tried summoning… a hundred and _twelve _Arms. That's not much better. It didn't end well, did it?"

"If lying on the floor _out cold _is any type of good outcome, then the attempt went swimmingly."

Prompto winced. "Geez…"

Ignis took off his glasses and started to clean them out of habit. "And that is why each successive King opts to summon only a dozen Arms alongside their own personal weapon. Ideally, they summon distinctive Arms, each with their own strengths and weaknesses and suited to that King's fighting style. It's best to have diverse weaponry as opposed to twelve variations of broadsword and yet another one."

"Any of them try, y'know, spicing up the Armiger?"

"One King used a rocket-powered chainsaw in his Arsenal. As his _main _weapon."

"Oh, that's a good one, Igs."

"That isn't a lie— it's right next to the guitar-gun, brass knuckle-axes, the harmonica gun, the ring-gun, the umbrella-gun, the keyblade, the whip-pistol…"

"First off, that doesn't sound any _less _like you're making it up, no offense. And second, not gonna say that I'm feeling attacked, but why are the 'weird weapons' mostly guns?"

"Oh, good, I get to give you a history lesson this time." Ignis hooked the glasses onto the front of his shirt and let them hang there.

"Is that right? A history lesson, then. _No zombies_, though."

"No zombies, you have my word. The truth is that modern-day Lucis specializes in bladed weaponry. Things that can be sharpened in general, to include bows. The Kings are Keeper of Blades for that reason. It helps hone a warrior's senses as well, whereas guns have a… lower barrier to entry, in terms of use."

Intrigue showed in the way Prompto leaned towards Ignis, but that he did was unnoticed even by him, it was subtle. "But it wasn't always that way, right? That's why you make the distinction."

"Mm, indeed. For most of the Ancient Era and before the 400 Years War, the nations were more amicable towards each other. There are Lucian tombs in Niflheim, for example. But Niflheim and Lucis separated when the war started, the gulf between them growing ever greater with each decade, culminating in what we see today. Lucis, with swords and magic. Niflheim, with guns and machinery."

"Huh…" Prompto nodded. "Wonder what started the war."

"Each side would have a different reason."

"That sounds about right…" Prompto looked down at the revolver he had holstered at his side. Everyone else would store their weapons in the Armiger, but he tended to keep his gun and the bullets nearby physically. It… made him feel safe. Didn't quite know why.

Ignis followed that with his own gaze. "That isn't to say that _you_ were wrong in your choice of weapon. The way you wield it… it suits you well. You're a quick draw, and your speed doesn't sacrifice your aim. I'd say your training paid off."

Prompto gulped, and an inexplicable rush went through him. "Thanks…"

Ignis inched closer to him. "You _did_ have expertise on firearms beforehand, did you not…?"

That earned a shake of the blond's head. "I got the gun _after_ I made it into the Crownsguard. It was a gift."

"Let me see."

Prompto's pulse began to race, and he didn't know why for that either. He handed the gun over to Ignis, handle first, and Ignis took it.

He found that he wasn't the only one in the party with deft hands; this was the first time he'd ever known Ignis to hold a gun, and Iggy still knew enough about trigger discipline to place his finger along the barrel, away from the trigger itself. Most people usually didn't get that right on the first try.

The explanation came easily to mind; Ignis joined the Crownsguard a year and some months before Prompto did, and trained as a Junior Crownsguard before then. If there was anything he was least likely to be, it'd be ignorant of the way something worked, even if he never saw himself using it for the rest of his days. So he must have learned how to use a gun just to know how to, and chose daggers for the personal feel of it.

While Prompto thought that, Ignis made some silent assessments of his own, then handed the gun back. Handle first.

"It's comfortable, like it was well-broken in before you received it. Whoever gifted it to you must place a tremendous amount of trust in you."

"You think so?"

"I'm sure of it. They made the right choice in recipient."

"I… Thanks." Prompto nodded, and holstered his gun.

They sat in silence while Noctis continued to catch more trout, but the time wouldn't pass any faster just by observation. Prompto summoned the _Origin of the Stars, _and picked up where he left off.

The gist of what he'd read was that Somnus founded the Kingdom of Lucis, with the seat of its power at the island east of the mainland. To undertake his journey to cure the plague he was bestowed a Ring of Radiant Light, and for his success in that task he was granted a Crystal with more Light yet, so that his descendants would both protect it and be protected by it. It held limitless power, and he and his progeny were trusted with it above all others.

Stella founded the Kingdom of Tenebrae, and gained a similar but different blessing from the gods. With power over life and light, she and her line bridged the gap between mortal and divine. In the gods' absence, the Priestess would make the gods' presence known on the mortal world via the ascension of what were otherwise common beasts. By the hands of the House Fleuret, the wild of nature was tamed by granting the chosen beasts intelligence and sentience. The Messengers would protect humanity in the gods' stead.

"Huh…"

"Mm?" Ignis had put his glasses back on.

"The Fleurets and Caelums have some… pretty powerful abilities on their side. Sounds like the Fleurets can basically make gods whenever they want. Minor gods, anyway."

"Only when they need to. You've heard of Fenrir, yes?"

Prompto shook his head.

"Tenebrae's Icewolf. The capital of Tenebrae is named after it, in a way."

It took a few seconds to stitch all the information together. "Oh, _Ulvar. _Their icewine comes from Ulvar berries. Guaranteed the bottle has a logo of a wolf on it."

"Mmhmm. The Kingdom's official seal in correspondence is a wolf-head as well. If we trust Luna's letters, anyway."

There was a twinge of curiosity and suspicion next. "Are Umbra and Pryna…?"

"Related to Fenrir? It would explain their intelligence, wouldn't it? But it's likely that the relation isn't direct; Fenrir himself was created far too long ago to be their parent, and Noctis had the earliest contact with the twins and saw them as pups, with no sign of the Icewolf around. Not to mention it _was_ a true wolf. Umbra and Pryna merely _resemble _wolves through selective breeding of certain traits back into them. It's likely that after Fenrir could no longer serve as Messenger, the Fleurets appointed a different canid to take its place, and now the role falls upon the twins."

"Huh… Makes sense." There was a note of awe in Prompto's voice.

"Does it?"

"Yeah, it does. … But you know what I'm gonna ask next, don't you?"

Ignis looked both amused and taken aback by the notion. "Knowledge of things is my forte, reading minds is not. What are you thinking?"

"I'm just saying," Prompto moved his hands as if he were balancing something on a scale, "with Stella and Somnus being that powerful, black magic, white magic, all that other stuff… why didn't they…?" He gestured with his pointer fingers and brought them together to signify a union.

Ignis blinked. "You're asking why they didn't marry?"

Prompto nodded. "If they got together, their kids would be _all kinds_ of overpowered."

"There must be a good reason why they didn't, then. Your assertion that the resulting children would be 'all kinds of overpowered' is amusing. What makes you so sure?"

There was a gasp from the blond, a sound of mock offense. "Only a little thing called 'common sense', Iggy! Everyone knows if you mix black and white together, you get _gray. _Can't go wrong with that. It's the best of both worlds!"

"_Gray _magic?" It was not the sound of a stifled laugh that left Ignis then, but maybe, _maybe, _a genuine chuckle. Not at Prompto's expense; in fact, he found himself considering the possibility of that— he could imagine the look on Prompto's face at being right about something that was otherwise thought of as outlandish.

"Wait…" Oh, right, Noctis was still within earshot of the conversation. "If Somnus and Stella hooked up all the way back then, wouldn't that make me and Luna related?"

Prompto shrugged. "Would it take more than five birth certificates to explain how you're related?"

"Well, _yeah, _I'd sure hope so!"

"Then you wouldn't be _that _related." Prompto brushed invisible dust off of his hands.

Noctis gave that some thought, and lifted his shoulders in a quick shrug as if to say '_Sounds legit'_ and kept on fishing.

The minutes stretched on into hours, and Prompto kept reading. He'd had the initial idea to put the book away and catch up on the lore later in the night before rest, but why leave for later what he could do right now? Of course, if he had time before bed, he'd cover even more ground. Win-win!

The passages changed subject; no longer about Somnus and Stella, but focused more on Somnus's descendants. The tense changed from past to present, like the writer had gotten the idea to record the events right then and there for posterity. Sounded like it meant the previous stuff had been oral history. Great; what part of it was real, and what was an exaggeration? He couldn't say. He found himself reading the same line over and over.

He breathed deep and stifled a yawn, rubbed at his eyes and continued to read. At least, he tried his best. The wind smelled sweet, felt refreshing as it skimmed his skin, and before he knew it, his eyes slid shut and he drifted away to the sound of water lapping at the edges of the pond, the whisper of wind, and the scent of something he had a _much_ easier time remembering.

Dreams were strange things. Could he say he was dreaming, really? He felt too 'present' to be asleep, yet too 'away' to say that he was awake. He felt untethered from the people he knew were once around him. He traveled the boundary between sleeping and waking, then. He felt _adrift_ in this sea— that was the right word. Adrift, and the slow rise and fall of his body along this sea was akin to a breath taken and expelled. Rhythmic, profound.

And in the same way the sea touched the land, _everything_ seemed… connected. Thoughts, memories. What he'd already seen and the things he had no idea of, things that had already been or had yet to be, they were one and the same in this world. He glimpsed colors he didn't have a name for, in shades and tints no one in their right mind would mix. He heard music, a haunting ebb and flow that brought to mind a yawning void until piano notes fell together and it all sorted itself out and took on a eerie beauty. He saw runes upon ruins. Towers ringed with green spirals. Stairs and stairs and stairs going any direction. He saw houses, apartments, proof that people lived in this space, but no one was here, and none of these houses had any place to stop and rest— one room simply led to another. Highways and train tracks snaked between buildings and stopped short. The sea crept ever higher and brought the edges of civilization into its depths.

Somehow it all made sense. With just a feather-light brush of his mind on the surface of the concepts, he understood it all, the why and how and where.

This place was…

_He_ was…

Awake, and he knew and remembered nothing of that boundary world.

He blinked absently, unaware of _when_ he'd fallen asleep, or that he'd fallen asleep at all. What lingered was a vague recollection of something more earthly; his gun, and Ignis's familiarity with it. The mention of trust. Maybe… maybe Iggy knew about it before he'd even gotten it? Only… the handwriting on the note…

When the haze cleared, he found that the night would soon finish its chase after the sun and shroud this side of the world. The altered angle from which he saw it all made him stir more fully awake. "Wait, did I…?"

Ignis hadn't moved from his position, and merely turned his head to regard Prompto. "Fall asleep on me?" His chuckle was subdued but there. "You did. I didn't wish to disturb you like I had this morning, so…"

"Huh? No, I … if I was bothering you, you could wake me up no problem."

Ignis shook his head. "You weren't a bother. Did you at least sleep well?"

"Mmhm. Feel like I got enough energy from that nap to last the whole rest of the night awake. You catch a bit of shut-eye too? I mean, no offense to Noct, but his hobby isn't exactly… engaging stuff."

"Mm." Another shake of the head. "I was mostly watching."

( Noctis had long left the dock and out of hearing range of their talk. He was with Gladio, and he attempted to 'subtly' suss out whether the phone number on the napkin was real. Gladio wouldn't fall for that, though. )

The traces of sunlight left, and Prompto saw a glimmer of blue in the distance, flitting between the trees.

"Hey, that's what we're after, right…?"

Ignis had seen it too. "Right. You hadn't seen it earlier, when Sania showed us the one that she had caught. There's the chance to see it up close, now."

The both of them went and reunited with the others, with more quiet shows of iridescence in the distance.

Gladio said, "Now that they're here, our job is exactly like Noct said; catch as many as we can, and bring 'em back to Sania in one piece. But whatever any of you do, _don't run._" His warning went to Prompto and Noctis; Ignis was the least of his worries. "If these still resemble anything like normal butterflies outside of looks, then they scare easy and float away just as fast. You have to take your time. Again, you're not gonna catch 'em if you're tired."

"Got it." Prompto's nod showed as much.

They followed the butterflies that they had seen, and were led to a flock of dozens more. None of the others had described to Prompto exactly what the butterflies looked like up close, even though they'd seen it. The why was obvious when he saw it; words would fail them.

The best way he could think of it, was that whatever gave them their glow in the night had a life of its own. Their wings were blue and lined with black, and the dark had no effect on their radiance. The light they cast shifted and swirled along their wings, intensified and diminished. Expanded and contracted, like lungs with a breath of air in them, or a tide upon shore. The shimmering blue on their wings were fluid enough to make the pattern inimitable; they barely resembled their previous selves, much less each other. No two of them shone in the same way.

One fluttered by before Prompto's eyes, and he held his hand out to give it something to land on. When it did, it disappeared into glints of light as he sent it into the warp space.

"Got one."

"Same here." Noct captured a butterfly between both hands, and marveled at the mutation for a few seconds. He did the same with it, and stored it away before it got the idea to escape.

One by one, the light in the forest receded, as there was less around to cast it.

"So, these blue ones don't knock people out while, I guess, the red one does, somehow." Prompto said it aloud to be sure. "But wouldn't we have to catch that one too? Just for Sania to check if she's right about colors being the key?"

"We could do that if it didn't cost us," Gladio said.

"I think we oughta. We're not like regular hunters. We have magic."

"Mm, so you suggest that the effects arise from magic, and that we have just the thing to counter that?" Ignis asked.

"Yeah, what of it?"

"... I like your confidence."

"Not to mention…" Noctis got one just as it landed on a tall blade of grass, "these things are coming up because of the longer nights. Maybe they already had something, but now it's worse."

There was no sign of the red butterfly yet, and they went north towards the Malachi Pond.

"You guys think it might've… gone?" Prompto asked. They had close to two dozen butterflies in their inventory.

"I wouldn't count on that myself." Gladio had caught yet another of the blue strain. "There are too many hunters unconscious for its sightings to be rare."

"Maybe it was having a lucky day and managed to catch a bunch of them at the same night?"

"If they were traveling around in bigger groups… it's possible. Plus, the Hunters we saw are probably more used to threats that actually _look_ like threats. Claws and fangs and all that. It'd make it easier for them to fall sick if they didn't know to warn for it 'til it was too late."

"Yeah. Makes sense."

It took time, but the light was fading from this side of the forest, too. Perhaps the red butterfly _had_ gone. All that'd be left would be to hope that the blues were enough for Sania to study.

"Hey… anybody think this is _really weird_?"

"Er… given our current predicament, define '_weird'_." Ignis caught one of the last few. There were less than a handful now.

"Okay. Daemons come out at night. We haven't seen a single one yet, and it's getting really dark without the butterflies. They should've come out by now."

"The butterflies themselves have warded off the daemons from this forest with their mutation, then?"

"If they're bright enough to trick 'em, yeah, it'd work out."

"Quite clever."

"What, me? Or them?"

"I'll let you decide that."

"Gladio, any thoughts?" Noctis failed to grasp one that slipped out of his fingers. He hadn't gotten to it in time, and it flew ever higher.

"A few. Animals were pretty strong on their own before daemons showed up to take their spot. Even the stuff the hunters chase in the daytime are awful to take on. More 'delicate' animals like butterflies? They're nothing to sneeze at. Bugs like those can feed off toxic plants and work the toxin into their bodies. Not enough to kill a regular person, but we don't know what they're capable of anymore. That might be what's going on here."

"So before daemons killed people, animals and bugs killed people. If _other_ people didn't do it, anyway."

"Yup. The '_good old days_', right? People wouldn't have to wait until night time to fear for their lives."

There was nothing to light the landscape anymore but the distant lampposts in the parking area, so the four of them huddled close together and then they walked at an even pace back to the Regalia.

Prompto stuck his hands into his pockets. "That was all of them, and still no red one. Report back to Sania and tell her what we _didn't_ find, or…?"

"It's late enough that we should make lodgings our first priority. No use in a success here only to fail on the trip back. That no daemons interrupted us doesn't mean we'll be so lucky elsewhere." Ignis paused for a quick adjustment to his glasses, but he was nice enough not to leave his answer on such a grave note. "Thankfully we managed this _without_ you needing a change of clothes this time."

Prompto sucked his teeth. "You're still on that? That happened a while ago."

"It happened _yesterday_."

"_Yesterday_ counts as _a while_, dude."

A red butterfly darted out from the trees as if a black-and-bloodied arrow loosed from its bow.

Ignis had only enough time to call out Prompto's name in warning as it headed right for him, only enough time that alarm flit across the blond's face in acknowledgment that he'd needed to watch out for _something_. But the blur of red and black struck him, and he knew nothing more. Ignis could do nothing except catch him and keep him from hitting ground, and the next move was to summon a Phoenix Down in hand to rouse him, when the words from before stopped him in his tracks. They wouldn't work. Prompto had said so himself.

But… that was only on the _others_… it'd be different for Prompto, he was imbued with magic. Ignis got the down feather out anyway and held it close. It _had _to work.

It didn't.

A powerless thought thrummed in the back of Ignis's mind— _I should have noticed it sooner_. Should have listened to what Prompto had said.

The blues _had_ kept the daemons at bay with their light, and the red one was among those it kept away. That had to be it. To wander too far from their light, or get rid of their light entirely… without them, the daemon in their guise could do as it pleased. But now it was nowhere to be found. Where did it go?

Gladio didn't ask what happened, and didn't need to. He and Noctis both summoned the same Royal Arm, the Shield of the Merciful King, and held it up while keeping Ignis and Prompto under their cover.

"Iggy, keep it together!"

"How?" The demand from Gladio seemed as ludicrous as did an imperative to breathe underwater unassisted. "If I hadn't distracted him with a pointless joke, he'd—"

"Don't focus on that right now. Think of what to do next. That's what you do!"

Gladio… was right. Ignis _had_ to shake away the thought that he should have connected all the information earlier. "For now… if we see it, we must try our best to keep it from attacking us. But _do not_ kill it unless there is no other choice." None of them yet knew how it worked, or what it did when its victims went under. They couldn't harm it, not with the risk that doing so would hurt Prompto and the other hunters as well.

* * *

_Wh… what happened?_

Prompto only knew he wasn't dead yet because he could still feel a chill along his skin. He opened his eyes, and saw someone unconscious right beside him— a man wearing a long jacket and black pants, a shotgun not too far away from his hand. The same man from before, with the long brown hair.

A frisson of panic shot through Prompto and got him to his feet, and he turned to spot the others. The girl that looked like she could be Iris's friend. The other guy, with the scar.

He went over to each of them and checked to see if they were still breathing, and he was thankful that they still showed basic signs of life. But they were in no better condition than they were in back in the motel. Prompto tried to summon a Phoenix Down to see if it would work here, but nothing came to his hand. How about a Potion? Nothing there either.

He didn't have any access to Noct's magic? It must have been an effect of being here.

Where _was _here?

The world around them was featureless. The dark grey floor spanned as far as he could see, and even beyond that. If what he was looking at when he turned his head up could even be called a sky, then that sky was black, with grey clouds. This was like… if he could take a guess, since it wasn't possible for the same person to be in two places at once in a physical sense… these were— rather, this whole place was a soul trap. His real body was where he'd left it.

_Do I… walk? Find out where exactly I am? How would I know where to go? _The bodies— the _hunters_— were lined up in a row. They must not have gotten that chance themselves, to wander around.

The beat of wings sounded from behind Prompto and he covered himself on reflex. He felt the wings flap against what they could reach of him, yet no talons scratched at his arms. The wing-beats wound down given time, and he uncovered his hands.

The bats were coalescing into…

"Oh, you are _not _a butterfly. Nowhere close," the blond said.

It was a red humanoid body with a black carapace and yellow eyes. Black horns and ridges and too-sharp teeth in a wicked grin. A long tail and gargantuan wings that kept it aloft.

"A bigger daemon than usual." Prompto aimed his gun at the beast. It had to be responsible for the hunters not waking up, if they were stuck here and just as unconscious out there.

"_**More than a 'daemon', child**__._" It flew upward and around in a vertical loop. "_**You will be my entertainment**_."

"Like hell!"

Try as he might, his attempts to pull the trigger on his gun were reduced to mere twitches of his fingers. Why couldn't he shoot?

"_**Agree to my game. Entertain me.**_"

"What? How? What do you want?"

"_**Play with me. I win, and you are mine. Just like…**_" the _daemon_ ( Prompto would still call it that, for lack of better terms ) gestured to the hunters that lay still.

It seemed the only thing Prompto was allowed to do was put his gun down, and he did so reluctantly. "Then if _I_ win, you'll let everyone go?"

"_**Yes.**_ _**If**_." The daemon swirled its fingers in lazy circles in the air.

A current of energy took shape in front of Prompto. He attempted to retreat, to no avail; his feet wouldn't respond. The energy exploded and caught him in a maelstrom of darkness and contracted inward just as fast. His knees gave out and he collapsed, his strength close to sapped from him.

"The hell was that…?" Why couldn't he have dodged it? He had more than enough time to. Had this been the real world…

_It wasn't_, he realized. This was the daemon's domain. Probably made it so that free movement didn't apply, and that'd account for the neat row of hunters. That 'restricted movement' rule applied to it, too, from the looks of it.

He fought past the pain he was in and got up, and in a fluid motion he lifted the gun again and fired. It was easier now than before.

The daemon reeled back from the hit, but showed no marks otherwise. Come to think of it, neither did he, even though he _felt _beat-up.

Again the hand motion, and again the dark maelstrom. It wasn't as strong as before, it was smaller, but it wouldn't be all that wise to think that it was because the daemon was going _easy _on him.

It was a weird 'game', but he was getting a hang of its 'rules'. They took turns. They were allowed one action per turn. They couldn't move otherwise except to talk, attack or do whatever else was in their power. He fired once more, and the daemon lunged at him to sink its claws into his skin. It hurt, but he'd just have to pull through, wait for his turn, attack again as soon as he could.

He noticed something else, too. Something that he hadn't before. Each time the daemon cast its magic, its wings gleamed in the same way he'd seen on the butterflies; a 'living' light just beneath the creature's surface. He didn't know what it _meant, _until he made a motion to shoot again and saw the same 'current' running along his own arms.

… To be honest, he _still_ didn't know what it meant. He wasn't Ignis, able to deduce things at a mile a minute. He just trusted his gut, and said gut was twisted into knots. It pulsed in time to his heartbeat, in time to the current that grew bright and then dim.

Who else could he trust, if not himself? No one else could help him, not now and not here.

He stowed his gun away and hoped for the best, as he willed the daemon's same magic forth. Both of them couldn't move, both of them had to wait their turn, and everything else. Both, both, both. This _had _to work, too.

It did, kind of.

He had expected the ability to cast. The energy that coursed through the daemon instead lifted in plumes of light right from its skin and rushed straight to him. _Wait… __What? What happened_? He patted his arms, his chest. That light was inside him now? Though he hadn't a clue just _what _he'd done, it was enough that it angered his 'playmate'.

This time, each trace of the daemon's fingers in the air beckoned more bats from the aether. They congealed into a mass of black. It grew in seconds, kept growing, enough to envelop the daemon itself. It wouldn't. The daemon wasn't the target. The creature launched the mass right at _him_.

Couldn't run. Couldn't brace himself. It was only a second before it overtook him anyway.

He couldn't hear. Couldn't see. Couldn't _be._ Made no difference what he did, or tried to do. There was no floor beneath his feet. No gun where he could reach. He had nothing — _**I **_**am**_** nothing**_ — and he was empty where he expected anger or fear. Did acceptance cause this, or apathy?

Was this what being dead felt like?

First nothing. Then _everything. _His thoughts were blown about. Scattered in a gale. Torn right out of his head. The rest of him felt the same. Colors shapes _light _ohgodhewasgonnabe_sick_

His knees gave out and he fell forward— his arms broke his fall, only a miracle he didn't hurl up his _everything. _Limbs shook under the strain, and each breath burned like his lungs had been pulled out of him, blasted with buckshot, then shoved back in for him to deal with it.

On the outside he didn't look hurt at all. His insides were different. Emotions, or entrails? Bit of both. Gods, maybe it'd be better if he hurled, he was cold and sick and — _I can't… I can't really be this weak, can I?_

The thought gouged deep. _I can't be this weak. _He expected himself to be made of tougher stuff; he'd joined the Crownsguard, after all. Was trusted enough to have a weapon he hadn't trained with before. He couldn't die this soon, and not like this, in a place where no one could find him.

His vision had started to blur, and the tremors got worse. He whispered to himself to _keep it together, keep it together_. He couldn't die here, so he _wouldn't_, and that was that.

The thought occurred to him that _of course_ he wouldn't die, and that made him feel worse.

If he lost, he wouldn't die. He'd be unconscious to everyone else, but still breathing, stuck in a coma like the hunters before him. The hunters wouldn't be saved. He wouldn't, either. More people would be caught in this monster's trap and forced to play its game until someone found the solution to it. What if that never happened?

At least with death there was closure. But he tried to imagine what it would be like for his parents to hear that news. What would they think? That he was being punished, denied the Goddess's embrace when so many others returned to Her? Or would they think that rejection a blessing, think him capable of recovery, and stand vigil over his motionless body every day? The thought of them having to put their lives on hold for him, _again?_ He couldn't bear it. They deserved so much better than that.

But at least he had that much. He had his parents and their faith. How many of those that were already unconscious had loved ones waiting for them to get better? Not everyone had the same amount of hope, the same amount of time in their lives they could afford to put aside for someone else's sake. At best, those loved ones had faith even if they hadn't the time to express it. At worst, they had neither time nor faith, and had already moved on. Or maybe those people never existed at all, and the hunters had no one to look out for them except each other.

They deserved better than this non-life, too.

He staggered back to his feet.

He may not have been blessed with kingly powers like Noctis, or as skilled a strategist as Ignis, but it didn't matter. He owed it to the missing hunters to return them to the world of the living. So it wasn't a matter of _if _he'd win. He'd do it. He _had _to. And were the daemon to win instead, then he'd make sure that that victory cost a lot.

The pulse of magic took a steady rhythm in the back of his mind. He felt both the living light and the dark current; they were one and the same thing, came from the same world that was ancient and nascent at once.

The spell formed in pinpricks of light like stars that converged in front of the daemon. They turned to streams. Blackened into shadowy tendrils. Picked up speed. Exploded like a grenade but with pitch instead of shrapnel. The image of the daemon warped and twisted in the storm. A hairsbreadth outside the boundaries of the maelstrom were faint gleams of blue.

No impact of the daemon hitting ground just yet. Red and black wings could still bear the creature's weight. That spell may not have killed it, but Prompto was at least hoping it hurt like hell.

The daemon looked ready to cast something of its own. Prompto braced himself for another hit of the sapping spell, the gravity spell or whatever it was.

No such thing came.

Instead it was the rush of wind and light. Warmth seeping into his bones. A breath of air that _wasn't _pained. He felt… good as new.

A reward for being able to wield the daemon's magic? That was… unexpected.

"_**A quick study. More entertaining than the others**_."

"That so?" Prompto swept the back of his hand over his mouth out of habit, and little hints of confidence worked into his smile. He got the feeling this wouldn't be over yet.

* * *

At no signs of daemons or butterflies or both approaching, Noctis dispelled the Shield and crouched beside Ignis and Prompto. "Should we move him?"

"I'm not sure," Ignis murmured. If none of them had known the truth, they'd have thought that Prompto was just asleep. The retainer kept both voice and actions subdued, mindful of the passing fancy to run his fingers through Prompto's hair as he had that morning. This was a deeper sleep than that. He couldn't try it now. And Noctis was watching.

Gladio didn't sense any danger either, so his Shield dissipated as well. "Can't imagine our trip going on with just the three of us."

"We shouldn't have to." Noctis took Prompto's hand and held it in his. "He should be awake and with us."

Ignis gulped and blinked back whatever feeling was bubbling up in him. "If his condition doesn't improve, we… we finish our mission and report to Sania. We have more than enough specimens for her to study."

Gladio noted something odd, but said nothing of it. "We might still be able to do something here while we can."

Noctis nodded to that. "Yeah. Prompto may be unconscious, but magic-wise, he's still connected to me." The bond had grown faint, but it was there, and Noct couldn't yet deliver any bad news that would change Ignis's expression. The empty look alone was like Ignis had seen hope pulled away from his grasp one too many times.

Noct's grip on Prompto's hand grew a little tighter. "There has to be a way to help him get better that we haven't tried. That _I_ haven't tried."

"What are you… saying?" Ignis seemed afraid to speak any louder as if a higher decibel count would disturb not only Prompto, but their very surroundings.

"I can boost Potions so that they heal better than usual. Maybe, the fact that I can do that, means … what I'm saying is, Prompto might be right about that whole thing with black and white magic."

In any other situation, Ignis would have told Noctis not to think of something so foolish, and not to do anything rash.

Instead he said, "Do what you can for him."

* * *

Another round, another powerful gravity spell. It hit hard enough that Prompto didn't know which way was up or down in the void of grey or black, but a moment's span of blinking and seeing the lifeless bodies still there beside him helped all too well in setting him on the right direction. He kipped up and got ready for his turn.

He'd cast the spells he'd drawn out, and pulled more from the daemon. He got the hang of the cycle. Draw gravity magic, then cast from the 'stock'. The daemon had no choice but to counter-heal him for it as part of its 'rules', even if it did resort to a claw swipe or tackle a second later. Sometimes those missed, sometimes they didn't. Prompto had drawn more magic besides the gravity spell, but this routine worked fine as-is.

"Why not _change_ the rules?" Prompto asked. This was a daemon, right? They were all about malice, backstabbers in a figurative sense if they weren't also literal. But this one took every bullet and gravity spell Prompto could lob at it when it could easily dodge, given its massive wings and abundance of space around them.

The daemon didn't seem to mind its constraints. "_**Not as fun if the rules change. Never needed to before.**_"

It had a point, given how many others it had caught. Though he hated to think it, its adherence to fairness even at its own expense made it rather endearing. But the game had to end sometime.

Prompto thumbed more bullets into his revolver, aimed, and emptied the whole thing into the daemon.

Its strength had finally given out with those last wounds, and it alighted on the ground, wings draped around its form.

With the daemon's descent, Prompto got a distinct feeling as if something had finally lifted, and he took one step, and then another. He could move, freely at that.

One of the wings gave way to his touch as he pushed it aside; it had all the pliancy of a heavy curtain. The daemon didn't move outside of that. At this distance, he felt the warm huffs of each heavy breath it took.

"You said you were more than a daemon... you weren't always like _this_, then, were you?"

"_**Don't know. Can't remember,**_" the creature rasped. "_**Too much sleep. Woke up not long ago**_."

"You mean, you woke up not knowing what you were before?"

"_**Maybe**_." It took a deep breath, this time. "_**Your terms?**_"

"My terms… you let everyone go, and I'll… I'll help you find out what you really are."

He tried one of the other spells he'd drawn, the one that wasn't gravity magic. That the creature could cast it meant the same applied to him as long as he had it in stock to cast, so he summoned the rush of wind and light and warmth, and hoped that the forgotten 'daemon' felt like new.

It let out a low rumble of a laugh, and he took it as a good sign. "_**You are… interesting**_."

"The name's Prompto, actually, in case you were wondering," he replied. "So… does this 'more than a daemon' have a name?"

"_**A name? Yes ... Diabolos**_."

He didn't ask as to whether that was a recently conjured name, or a thread to the past that the creature still held to. It was a name, and it'd do, so he gave a quick nod in confirmation. "I'll keep that in mind."

Behind him, the fallen hunters faded away into the aether, if such a term applied to those already _in_ a borderline ethereal dimension outside of the world they knew. The grey clouds dissipated, the black sky cleared and gave way to the blue he was familiar with. It carried a tinge of the otherworldly, the ebb and flow he had gotten used to in the past minutes. Something about it resonated with him, beckoned to the subconscious.

And then he knew nothing more.

* * *

Plumes of smoke and midnight light curled out from Prompto's body, and the red-and-black butterfly emerged from him as if he were nothing more than its cocoon. It unfurled its wings and fled back south to the Aletheia, and no one that saw it go bothered to make a move against it; their attention was snared by the fact that Prompto had shown signs of life.

_Huh, I didn't have to do anything_, Noctis thought. "See? Told you he'd pull through," he said aloud instead, earning a look from Ignis that suggested that no one would believe that claim in a hundred years.

To Prompto's relief, he was definitely not dead this time. The ground had grass on it and everything, and there was a presence nearby that was warm in the way living things tended to be. His eyes fluttered open and he spotted the same bespectacled bystander from yesterday ( _heh _) with the concern in his expression loosening its vise grip on his features and giving space to the calm and collected countenance he was usually known for.

Had Ignis not been so close, Prompto would've sat up as if he were springloaded. He instead kept his reaction down to a glimpse at his own hands. He didn't feel the rush of magic from the other dimension he had been in. The pulse of it was replaced by the more subtle and warm crackle of Noctis's magic.

He set that aside and looked at everyone else. "How long was I out?"

Noctis grinned, and stepped back to stand beside Gladio. "Long enough; you had Ignis worried sick!"

"What, really?" The blond looked at the brunet in a way they assumed was skeptical. "Never knew you cared."

Gladio scratched at his chin. "Pretty sure he was more concerned about it being _his _mistake that put you there. Not that he made one at all." Gladio and Ignis met each other's gazes, though the former's look was to dare the latter to object.

"Ohhhh… that explains it." Prompto checked one cheek, then the other, then traced his thumb over his lips in search of something. "Just to ask, nobody tried kissing me, right?"

Noctis raised a hand. "I considered it."

"You _what?_" Ignis held his glasses in place with a focused look in his eyes as if he could channel a laser beam right out of them if he thought on it hard enough. "Was that your plan the entire time?"

Noctis stared back with a blank look that skimmed the edges of cluelessness. "Oh, yeah, you know," he pointed to himself, "a Prince," he pointed to Prompto, "a sleeping blonde. Thought that would work."

"First off, that would work in _fairytales. _Second, you could at least wait until reuniting with Luna to try something so asinine!"

Prompto lifted his shoulders in a light shrug. "I dunno, Igs, I kinda always wondered what it'd be like to be rescued by a Prince." When he saw that Ignis looked liable to suffer a conniption from the ridiculousness if he thought on it all for too long, Prompto sat up and wrapped his arms around the retainer. "Aw, I'm just messin' with ya. Settle down a little. Can't have _you _dying on us from a blood pressure spike." ( He took advantage of the fact that the other two wouldn't be able to hear him, and whispered in Ignis's ear, '_I'm sorry_'. )

Noct motioned with his hands as if to physically wave the notion away. "He's right, man. Losing him would be bad, losing _you _would be tragic and a half. I mean, who else would I be able to watch movies with?"

Gladio elbowed Noct in the ribs. "I'm right here."

"Pff. You? I've _sat _with you for a movie. It's great when you can recognize something is filmed on a set or with a stand-in location instead of the real spot, but you _gotta _stop commenting on it. It really takes me out of it."

"How'd you think I feel? Look, if someone wants to say a movie takes place in Laghamon, sure, go ahead, but they can't say that and just film everything in Saxham with the street names covered up. I've _been _to Saxham enough to know the place by the potholes in the road."

With a quiet laugh and a shake of the head, Noct turned to head to the Regalia. If they were gonna continue this conversation, it'd be in the car and on the way to someplace quiet to sleep. Gladio followed him; he looked intent on stressing the importance of _realism_ over _truthiness_.

Prompto got up and dusted himself off, then watched the two go on ahead. They trusted him and Ignis to catch up soon, now that the danger was finally gone. He turned to his friend and flashed him a hesitant smile. "I mean it. I'm sorry."

Ignis averted his own gaze. "You're in no position to apologize, and you know it."

"What, and you are? What'd _you _do wrong? … Don't answer that."

He was right to say that; Ignis _was _ready to mention the ways he was at fault for Prompto having fallen unconscious to that strange butterfly-daemon.

"It doesn't matter anymore," came the brunet's hushed attempt at reassuring himself. Aloud he asked, "Are you alright? Do you feel anything at all from … from whatever that was?"

"I'm fine, Iggy. But if it'll help you feel better, whenever we make a stop somewhere, one of your check-ups might work, mm?" He took Ignis's hand in his and felt its warmth, mirrored its reassurance with a squeeze. "You've got to take it easy, man. All that worrying isn't good for you."

"You know I can't do that." He couldn't afford to be lax. Not here, not now, and not ever. This incident proved at least that much.

"In that case…" the hesitant smile from before brightened to one more sure of its place. "You oughta worry really, _really _hard. Give it your all on that one. Worry as hard as you can, until you can't anymore. Just, get it all out of your system!"

"Wh… wha…? Then, how will I get anything else done?"

Prompto didn't know just what was cuter; the genuine puzzlement on Ignis's face, or the fact that he had truly considered a scenario where he placed one-hundred-and-ten percent of his energy into dwelling on the negative, which had caused that questioning look in the first place.

"Don't worry about… well, _do _worry about that too. Hell, toss it into the little 'worry basket' we call your brain. Anything else that needs doing, let _me_ handle it."

"You?"

"Oh, yeah, totally. I'll wear your glasses, put on a snazzy suit, write in your notebook, toss a bunch of fifty-gil words into my speech… it'll be a vacation, gives me a break from being me."

"No, no, don't do that, please… I _like_ you being you." Rephrasing himself didn't enter Ignis's mind, not even the shadow of an edge of the thought of doing so had ghosted across. There was a certain _feel _to those words that he was comfortable with.

The smile from the blond was more comfort yet. "I like you being you, too." He gave a quick tilt of his head in the direction that their friends had gone. "How about we be ourselves on fast forward and not hold them up too long?"

"That's a sound idea." Ignis stepped back and gave a slight bow with a flourish. "After you."

"Why? So you can 'dwell on' something a little different?" He couldn't skip the opportunity to tease.

Ignis wasn't the type to skip that chance either. "Can't say it'd be to the extent that I 'get it out of my system'..."

"I'd ask how you'd get anything else done, but I think… we'll figure that out as we go along." Prompto was happy to relent, and strolled on to the Regalia ahead of Ignis.

Ignis watched him leave, but found his attention snared by something peculiar. The branches above their heads had bent, pulled by a 'wind' that couldn't be seen nor heard. It almost looked like … arms that strained towards something. Some_one. _

"Prompto…?"

"Mm? What's up?" Prompto turned around to look to his friend, and whatever spell it was broke in that instant. The branches shifted back to normal. No longer reaching for him as they had seconds ago.

"... Nothing. It's nothing."


	5. Calm

**Chapter 5: Calm**

The night remained as quiet as they didn't expect it to be; not a daemon in sight, even with the dark so deep that they couldn't see their hands in front of their faces without a Fire spell to illuminate. Gladio conjured a low-level version of the spell in hand and kept his place in front of Noctis, leading the way to be sure their path was clear. It had been clear in the daytime, but hours made a world of difference in terrain sometimes.

He filled the air with small talk in the meantime. "You weren't really thinking of kissing him, were you?"

Noctis was relaxed enough with their surroundings that he had his arms folded and hands behind his head. "Eh, not really. I only said that so Ignis would stop looking so down. He's easier to deal with when what he has to deal with is easy for him."

"Making him upset at you so that he's in a place he's familiar with? Smart, in a dumb way."

"Hey, what can I say? I learn from the best." If there were such thing as elbowing someone in appreciation _and _shade, Noctis did that to Gladio.

They found the Regalia lit from above by a streetlamp; its own personal spotlight. It'd be easy for the others to catch up, given it was more or less a straight path from where they'd been previously. Gladio put the spell out, and as soon as they were seated in their usual spots he took advantage of the light to open up his book.

"He feels way too guilty about things," Gladio mused aloud.

"You're telling me? I gotta hand it to my dad for giving me someone that's dedicated to be my adviser and all, but… that's got drawbacks. Can't imagine the level of control he wants over situations is good for his health."

A shrug. "Maybe the longer we let him alone with Prompto, the better chance he has of lightening up."

"If they don't bicker each other to death, anyway."

Despite himself, Gladio snickered.

Noctis spotted the advent of the subjects in question by the blond hair on one and the shine of the other's glasses. He got Gladio's attention and signed to him, _We're still talking about movies._

Gladio took the hint easily enough and scoffed as if a point had already been clarified once before. "I'm telling you, Noct, cutting corners in filming only works for made-up places. It's cheaper to film on a real location and give it another name if the place in the movie is fake to start with. No one bothers nitpicking stuff that's already made up, but they also don't fact check when real places are faked. The whole thing is, lies and truth sound the same to people with no experience, and that goes double the more something _resembles_ reality everywhere else. It works that way on most everything."

Noctis looked skeptical of that claim. "So, what, you're saying I can get fooled if I've never been places?"

"I'm saying, what people wanna say and how they say it, affects how people hear it and what they think. Not just movies; even stuff that's supposed to be 'real'. It wasn't a good look when you asked why Insomnia looked so small on the map of Lucis that Cindy gave you, 'cause you got used to the maps made _in_ Insomnia that focused on making it more important than everywhere else. Still don't think she's forgiven you for that."

"It was only once. _Once_."

"Don't underestimate the power of first impressions, Noct."

Prompto arrived first and got into the passenger seat. Ignis followed suit when he took his usual place behind the wheel.

"Ourthe Haven is nearby," Ignis said, "and we're closer to the Haven than we are to Longwythe. We ought head there for safety's sake, though it _will_ result in a longer trip back to Longwythe come morning."

Prompto laughed. "Distance doesn't matter when you can just floor the gas pedal."

Ignis gave a light swat to his passenger's hand as if to brush away that silly notion, then directed his gaze to the back. "What say you, Noct?"

Noct shrugged and grinned. "Ourthe, then. Like you said already, no point in being successful if we fail on the way back. Hate to push our luck with the lack of daemons around."

Ignis gave a single nod. From there it would be a short and almost straightaway drive south.

Noctis let the curiosity get the better of him, and he leaned forward in his seat. "You were knocked out for a while there, buddy. What happened?"

Prompto's ears perked in recognition. "Huh? Oh… it was pretty trippy. Bleak-looking. Everything was black or gray. Whatever that place was, I thought I saw the Hunters there. But they're fine now, they left."

"They left…?"

Gladio thumbed the numbers on his phone to reach Sania. It rang a few times before she picked up. "Sania? It's Gladio. Any word on the Hunters?"

"_More than one. They regained consciousness not too long ago. They'll be staying the night so that the doctor can check their vitals for any changes or lingering effects."_

"Huh, they really did wake up."

The others heard it, and Ignis's gaze went right to Prompto.

The blond mirrored the puzzled look, then blinked it off to ask, "Do we… need the butterflies anymore, then?"

It was quiet enough around them that Sania could catch that question over the phone, and Gladio awaited the response.

"… Mmhmm. Got it. See ya tomorrow, then." He hung up. "She says we can bring them if we want to. She's not in a hurry to study them anymore. It's better for her now than before, which is great."

"Wouldn't hurt to give her something to study. But…" Prompto held his hand out over the side of the Regalia and allowed one blue butterfly after another to flutter from his palm and relight the forest again, until he had a handful left. "They were doing a good job keeping away the daemons until now. It's better we don't change that. We can give the rest to Sania."

Gladio and Noctis did the same and allowed several more butterflies to light the forest as they did before, so each kept their own handful save for Ignis who didn't take his hands off the wheel.

Once they reached the haven, they set up camp. Ignis cooked dinner, but only enough for everyone else. He didn't have his own plate.

"Mm? Come on, Iggy. You're not gonna go to bed hungry." Prompto offered his meal.

"I won't; I'm _not _hungry. Please. I gave you your portion size for a reason. Don't waste that on me."

Prompto sighed, and ate his food without further protest. Sure, Ignis took pleasure in others enjoying what he cooked, but this didn't feel like one of those times.

Noctis didn't forget the nightly hygiene ritual this time. Figured he'd make things a bit easier for Ignis in whatever way he could, since his earlier trick didn't seem to work. He was the first of them to retire to the tent.

Gladio got in his exercise before going to rest, too, and he left Ignis and Prompto alone in the midst of the brunet observing the blond's complexion, whether his eyes reacted to light as they should, and if sensation remained in his limbs.

"Took the whole 'dwell on it super hard' thing to heart, huh?"

Ignis didn't answer. He didn't know what to say. There weren't words yet that could capture what it was that he'd seen.

No… he had the words. And he _hated_ how clearly he could hear them, as if the words had been spoken to him only days ago.

'_Where does magic come from, child?_'

'_It comes from… the gods. Their gift to humans, to the line of Kings. Then it's through the King's blessing that—_'

'_Don't play coy. Any fool can be "given" magic. What do you __**really**_ _think gave you this proficiency? Your intelligence? Bravery? Righteousness? Bless your soul… don't tell me you think you're "born special"?_'

'_... I…_'

'_You are no more exceptional than any of the vermin that crawled and defecated in whatever gutter your mother spawned you in, you whelp. It's because of your __**pain**_ _that you wield magic as skillfully as you do. You will take that pain, and use it as you are meant to. Bend and twist it to your will, and hurt others to distract from your own suffering. And every time you do, you will look back on this moment and feel honored for this allowance._'

He buried those words in his memories, where they belonged. But the truth would still exist, whether he believed or remembered it or not.

Magic spells outside of the cardinal elements were learned and strengthened through _affliction_. He didn't want to imagine what Prompto had gone through if he learned a new spell.

It wasn't like him to leave things to the imagination, anyway. And so he wouldn't.

He released his hold on Prompto, and glanced to the tent. Noctis and Gladio were there, and though he knew that Noctis didn't take long to reach a deeper level of sleep, Gladiolus would be more of a variable. With that in mind, he signed to Prompto, _I don't wish to pry, but I must ask of what happened.  
_  
Prompto gave a quick glance of his own to the tent across the haven, and signed back, _With the daemon?_

He got a nod and a hushed 'Yes'.

Prompto tried to let the tension leave his posture along with the breath he held. _I … _he faltered just as soon as he began, shoulders slack with uncertainty, but then he steadied himself and continued, _I woke up in that weird place. The hunters were there, too, the ones we saw first. A daemon showed up, huge, scary-looking, y'know, though he said he was more than a daemon. He had a name, too._

A sapient daemon? An _arch_daemon, capable of recognizing itself like a human would? Could those truly exist? A frightening thought, though he wouldn't let that apprehension show on his face. Very coolly, he signed, _It's not often that daemons retain concept of language and names. _It was odd, but he couldn't doubt Prompto at this stage. He wouldn't make light of this.

_I know, but this one could talk, same as us. He wanted to play a game, but he really meant … _Prompto paused to shrug. _I guess he wanted to test me or something._

Ignis shook his head. To call it a 'test' sounded to him like downplaying its severity. Before he could go any further, he gave the tent another check, and shut his eyes to focus on what he heard rather than saw. Noctis's breaths were the typical slow and even fare, while Gladiolus was more of a light snorer, but that was easily fixed by a change in his position.

Satisfied that they wouldn't be listening in, he spoke in a voice no louder than a whisper, "You say the daemon wanted to test you? By what? How? Nearly killing you like it had the others?" Even through the quiet, the concern yet settled into his words, and Prompto could hear it all.

The blond shifted, uncomfortable. "I'm fine now, aren't I? I got out of it fine." He wasn't so naive as to think that everything was fixed just like that. He cast his gaze to his friend, and added. "You're gonna get tired of me apologizing."

"I already am. You didn't do anything wrong. That you're alive is what matters."

"I made you worry."

"You didn't cause that worry on purpose. A daemon attacked you; it could have happened to any one of us."

"That wouldn't stop _you _from feeling guilty it happened, would it?"

Ignis had a counter for most everything, but at that, the words had died out and scattered from his mind.

"... Yeah, I thought not."

"What would you have me do? Not care?"

"I'm not telling you not to care, I just…" He sighed and kicked his legs back and forth in lazy swings. "I just know what else you were thinking about."

"You claim to be clairvoyant now?"

"I'm claiming I got _common sense_. You were…" Prompto felt his mouth go dry, and he licked his lips in nervousness. "Look, while I was down there, I thought I'd… never wake up. That I'd never come back from that. And a lot of things went through my head. Thought about what my parents would do. What they'd think. Thought about you having to break the news to them." His eyes searched the ground as if the rest of his words were there. "I couldn't put any of you through that. It's part of what made me fight back against that daemon. It'd hurt you too much, not knowing what to do or what to say or what went wrong. You'd just blame yourself."

More than he already was? Ignis found it both hard to believe and also entirely possible that he'd reach some heretofore untold depths of self-loathing if he were to let his own friend die.

A shadow of a smile gave faint quirk to Prompto's lips. "I'll try not to go too soon. But… some things, we can't control. Things won't happen how we want, so we should… make the most of what we got now. Prepare for what we can."

"What?" Ignis didn't like the conclusion that his mind had formed as to what Prompto meant. The blond didn't say anything outright _yet_, but it got the brunet's pulse pounding hard enough to be at the forefront of his attentions.

He backed away, from Prompto, from the conversation entirely. "No. _No_. I won't hear this, not from you."

Prompto stood and followed him. "Iggy, listen to me, if it happens—"

"If."

"—then I want you to know it's _not _your fault. It won't be. Not ever. And I want you to tell them that it didn't hurt. I didn't feel a thing. Whatever happens to me, you make sure they're safe. That's… that's all I want." Prompto had grabbed hold of Ignis's hand and felt its warmth.

Ignis tried not to let even that show. "I can't promise you that."

"I'm not telling you to promise me."

A deafening silence slunk its way between them and made its home in their conversation, curled up tight and nestled into the crook of things they had yet to say, the words that would've tumbled out of them with too much heart and not enough sense backing each letter.

"We should call it a night," Ignis managed to get those words out, at least.

"Yeah."

Neither of them moved. Waited for the other to take that first step. The argument was still there, though they said nothing, and Prompto eventually let go.

Ignis watched him leave, waited, until he knew that it was safe for him to let the tension leave him with a sigh. He left a question unvoiced,

_What makes you so sure you won't be the death of me first?_

and wasn't sure if what he did for the rest of the night counted as sleep.

* * *

Prompto woke up on his own. No fingers through his hair, no soothing touch. He felt a twinge in his chest at that, though he would like to think it was just sore feelings from the night prior that only hit him today. It was stupid, he knew; Ignis wasn't _obligated_ to fulfill anything on his behalf. They both knew it. Then again, they both knew that Ignis _himself_ wouldn't believe so in the moment. Too much of a sense of responsibility was in him to leave things and accept them.

In that way, Prompto had hoped maybe preparing for the eventuality in Ignis's terms would make things more simple, would ease his burden. But given how that talk went… Maybe there wasn't anything to be done about that either. Some burdens couldn't be lifted from someone just like that.

Goddess, what was he doing, letting such gloomy thoughts run around in his head? He wiped at his eyes and put the thoughts in his mental strongbox, then left the tent to check out how his friends fared.

It was still early; Ignis had started to make breakfast, and thankfully seemed in a better mood to eat, given four plates were ready to be filled and not three. Gladio had just begun his clockwise laps around the haven, and Prompto was in the mood to join him. He couldn't truly run away from his own thoughts, but they provided excellent motivation for his exercise.

When he was steps away from catching up to Gladio, he gave the guy a heads up. "On your left."

"Mm? Heh. This is rare." Seeing Prompto keep pace with him still brought a smile to his face, though.

And yeah, warning him was entirely necessary. When they first met, Prompto had clapped Gladio on the shoulder in greeting and thought nothing of the gesture, but whatever quip the blond had in mind left him as a scream instead; Gladio had nearly twisted the offending arm out of its socket as a reflexive counter. The apology was immediate after he realized who he'd done that to, and his reason was just that his father had a jacked-up sense of humor and taught him to be vigilant of his whereabouts the hard way. Taught him that things were either trying to kill him or not, and the latter should have had nothing to hide or be sneaky about.

Prompto figured there was no lasting harm done with that maneuver. Both his arms remained functional as they should. He'd just warn Gladio next time whenever he was coming up behind him. Gladio extended him the same courtesy, and taught him that move for if he ever needed to use it.

"Running form's still as good as ever," Gladio said in the present moment.

That brought Prompto out of his thoughts. "Mm? Oh, uh, thanks."

"No problem. Maybe you should wake Noct up one of these days and teach him a thing or two about it?"

Prompto gave him a crooked little smile. "... I'll consider it."

Gladio complimented him on his form one time before. That day, Noct got the good idea to get behind the wheel, take the Regalia away, and pretend to leave Prompto behind at one of the outpost stores. It was only funny until Prompto used a Haste spell to catch up with the car on foot, and went at it with all the steely-eyed determination of the T-1000 that chased after the Connors.

While Noctis sweated bullets, Gladio had _his _priorities straightened out, so he didn't miss a chance to mention that Prompto had a proper run while _Noct's_ idea of being fast was to "ninja run" around the Citadel. Noct said it was just a phase, Gladio countered that Noct still had the headband with the slash mark across the Leaf symbol and wore it from time to time.

After the morning run around the haven was done, Prompto and Gladio got ready for the rest of the day. Bath, change of clothes, meds where applicable, then breakfast.

Noct was still dead to the world, as usual.

Prompto finished his last forkful. "So, do we wake him?"

Ignis took everyone's plates and utensils and stacked them neatly. "I believe 'we' sounds like too many people involved. It's usually up to me."

"Yeah, 'cause it sure as hell isn't gonna be me." To show how 'not it' he was, Gladio again summoned the King Calypso edition of _Origin of the Stars_ and picked up where he left off.

Prompto raised his hands like a dignitary quieting the rabble of a distressed people. "Easy, you guys, no need for the back and forth about it. I got just the plan, without using a feather or a slap."

Ignis pushed his glasses up in a way that his hand hid the intrigue that showed on his mouth. "And what is this plan of yours?"

"Glad you asked." Prompto summoned a guitar and started to tune it. "A wise man once told me, teach a man guitar and he'll play for a day."

"I don't recall ever telling you that, but continue."

Prompto tried his _best _to fight off the smile on his face. His best wasn't enough. He plucked out some notes to test, then started to play a familiar and easy chord progression, and he steadied the quaver that a laugh would put to his voice. "Okay, so yeah, teach a man guitar and he'll play for a day. Throw one at his head and…"

Ignis picked up on the choice of words, and his eyes widened a fraction with the horror one reserved when they saw the last second tick down on a bomb thrown at their feet. Prompto took that as his cue to start.

_Today is gonna be the day that they're gonna throw it back to you__  
By now you should've somehow realized what you gotta do_

Gladio recognized the song as well, and looked up from his book and glared at Prompto, as if that'd make him stop. It wouldn't.

_I don't believe that anybody feels the way I do about you now_

The tent shuddered with the motion of limbs sprawled out every which way as the 'captive' struggled out of the confines of their sleeping bag. Noctis's voice came out sooner than he did. "That better not be what it is!"

Both Ignis and Gladio's gazes snapped to the tent; they hadn't expected Noct to wake up from just that. Wasn't he supposed to be in his dead sleep?

Prompto still didn't stop, and kept on singing around the grin that got even brighter. He got up to the pre-chorus,

_And all the roads we have to walk are winding  
And all the lights that lead us there are blinding  
There are many things that I  
Would like to say to you but I don't know how~_

_Because maybe, you're gonna be the one that saves me—_

when one of Noct's boots flying to his head stopped him short. He dodged it, but he got the idea and sent the guitar back into the warp space in time to dodge the second boot that didn't match the first.

"The hell is wrong with you?" said the guy that tossed his shoes.

"Thought you needed a wakeup call. _And after all~ —_"

Noctis's warp strike missed as Prompto disappeared to the lower ground of the haven in that instant, and the prince settled for chasing his Crownsguard on foot.

Ignis sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose. Gladio watched the chase go on and raised his eyebrows, mildly impressed. Prompto _was _getting Noct to improve his technique.

The pair sunk a good few minutes into the chase, but Noct didn't catch up. He grumbled in irritation, returned to the haven, got himself cleaned up and fed. With all four of them ready to go, they packed their things back up and got into the Regalia.

First order of business was to head back to Longwythe to check on the town since last night's little butterfly catcher mission. The hunters woke up, and that was good news, but there could have been something else going on too that they didn't know about.

( On the ride there, the wheels in Ignis's mind turned a mile a minute as he searched for the hidden meaning in Prompto having chosen _that _song to wake Noct up with. In his search, he found he wanted to hear Prompto sing more often. )

The Three Z's motel wasn't listed as closed anymore. The clotheslines were empty of fabrics being sunwashed in the hopes the bright light would clear the threads of the parasite strain. Prompto wondered, would the hunters take a rest from chasing down monsters after what happened? Or would they go back to it? He figured the first two would do the former. The third guy would probably drown himself in more monsters to hide what he perceived as a moment of weakness.

Though the hunters were gone, Sania was there. The four reported what they found about the butterflies back to her—rather, Noctis and Gladio told her what _they'd _been told, while Ignis kept quiet as he didn't think his input necessary—and Sania matched it up with what she and the crow doctor had heard from the hunters personally. _They _said that they'd felt someone nearby, who stood by their side and asked if they were alright, before something or another happened. They didn't get a good look at his face, only heard him.

That said, the municipality had paid both doctors in exchange for their help with the patients. Doctor Beak took part of the money to give it to the motel manager in compensation for having used the Three Zs, since it diverted potential customers. He gave the rest to Sania on the grounds that the coma that the hunters recovered from hadn't stemmed from the plague to begin with. He hoped that Sania would give the reward to the person that _did _solve the problem, and had a very good idea as to who it was.

The reward went to Prompto, and he took it with equal parts bashfulness and gratitude. "Thanks, Sania." He handed the heavy gil bag to Gladio to hold it until they could warp it away into the inventory without raising questions.

Sania gave him a quick nod. "It's you I should be thanking. Looks like the Crownsguard are a cut above after all."

Everything went quiet.

The smile didn't leave Sania's face. "Not to worry. I haven't told anyone else."

"Oh, that's… good…" The extent of Noctis's bafflement allowed him just those few words.

She took the pen from behind her ear and fiddled with it. "It'd be difficult for you all to explain how you intended on handing me the butterflies you've caught without a cage in sight, _or _how you managed to solve the particular problem of the hunters when no one else could. But I'm grateful for the second part and prepared for the first. This way," she beckoned for them to follow her.

A massive trailer was parked in the shade of the motel's rear side. It was likely a repurposed caravan judging from the wear on it, but it had parts that would jut out. Extra space to make study areas or something, given her work. Sania opened the rear door of the trailer and stepped in, followed by the guys in single file.

As expected, the place was a mobile laboratory with a desk space and different note piles best described as 'organized chaos'. Prompto spotted something about the soil and water quality on one of those note piles, but the more captivating detail was closer to the front end of the trailer. A wire mesh cage held the lone blue butterfly from the second motel room, the one Prompto didn't get to look at. The cage itself was large enough to hold more than one butterfly, and had a panel that could open up enough for someone to stick their hand in.

That's exactly what they were going to do. Sania opened the panel, and all of them understood what to do well enough. One after the other, they released their captive creatures into their new container, and the doctor closed the cage back up.

"Perfect. You've even provided the right amount for me to study if they can breed!"

"Hope all that research works out," Noct said, though he sounded like his mind careened off into whether or not a study of how butterflies copulated counted as insect porn.

They left the mobile lab a little bit lighter but a lot less brighter without the butterflies. But it was still daytime, so there was no big loss. A last trip around Longwythe to talk to the usual tipsters and check the bounty board yielded nothing of note, so a trip to Galdin it was.

"All this gil… how do we spend it?" Prompto wrapped the rope-tie of the bag in loops around his finger.

"Conservatively," Ignis replied. "We don't want to draw any attention with our spending habits. Supplies first, lodgings second, and indulgences third."

"Uh-oh." Gladio elbowed Noct. "No Justice Monsters for you just yet."

"But no Ebony for him either, if he's _consistent,_" Noct teased back.

"Are you mad?" Ignis shot a look through the rear-view that said something more like '_What is wrong with you?'_ "Ebony isn't an indulgence, it's necessity. Think of what I have to deal with."

Prompto gave quick shakes of his head. "Nuh-uh, bad idea. You don't want him thinking about himself more than he already does."

"Hey!" Noct didn't look too pleased at that remark. Prompto shrugged off the glare.

There was some vague news on the radio about political affairs, though not an interview with any major figures like there was yesterday. Instead the hosts of the segment sounded excited about something.

" … _about ten-odd years of peace, it'll be official between Niflheim and Lucis! What a time to be alive!"_

"_Isn't it, though? It looks like the Kingdom's taken the Nif Prince's words to heart."_

"_The Kingdom, or just the King? Prince Asterid wasn't shy to level his criticisms at King Regis's actions, or lack thereof."_

"_Well, whichever! Fact is, the peace treaty signing is coming soon, ending the war between Niflheim and Lucis once and for all."_

"_Mm-hmm, and included is the Terms for the Peaceful Use of the Crystal. This may mean that the whole Kingdom of Lucis, or even the rest of the world, will be as advanced as the Crown City… though I don't think the Nifs need it much. But, can you imagine that?"_

"_I honestly… wow! I can't! Even now it all feels like one pinch and poof! it's gone! And an even more dreamlike and stunning stipulation, right out of the fairytales themselves, we'll be seeing the union of the nations be formalized in Altissia through the marriage of Princess Lunafreya Nox Fleuret of Tenebrae, and Prince Noctis Caelum—"_

"**What?**"

Noct sat upright with a start, and leaned closer to the radio. Was he hearing that right? Were any of them?

The talk show hosts hadn't paused to clarify.

" … _would have competition with the Prince of Niflheim, don't you think?"_

"_The competition is up to the audience now. A quick straw poll for the listeners; who do you all think is a better match for Princess Lunafreya? Call in with your votes!"_

"_What, are we gonna call the sides 'Team Noctis' or 'Team Asterid'?"_

"_Just did, haha!"_

Prompto reached up to the back of his own head and pressed his fingers to where he felt the thrum of magic the loudest. He didn't want to know what Noctis looked like in the back seat.

The tension made the Prince's voice taut. "Turn around. _**Now. **_We're heading to Insomnia. And floor it!"

They doubled back north to the Crown City, and Ignis eased onto the gas pedal more than usual. Fast enough to count, not enough to draw attention to them nor attract an accident or worse.

People called in to the station and cast their frankly needless votes. The marriage was already decided upon, but they still phoned to agree or disagree with the decision, and threw in reasons in favor of Asterid:

'_Lunafreya and Asterid live in the same continent at least'_,

'_He sounds like a kind person, with a good head on his shoulders'_,

'_She prayed for him to get better! That's gotta mean something, right?'_,

'_It'll be easier for the Princess, the two of them can travel together, where Lucis's Prince might be a ball and chain for her'_

Along with reasons in favor of Noctis:

'_Nifs are just monsters in fancy threads, I don't trust that Asterid guy for a second'_,

'_It's obvious by their names, not to mention the names of the kingdoms, Lady Lunafreya and Noctis are a match for each other'_,

'_They look like they'd complement each other nicely, the white and black, it's picturesque when you think about it'_,

'_There's nothing that proves Prince Noctis is gonna be exactly like the King; we might see a turnaround in the way things are run with him at the throne and the Princess by his side'_.

Noctis was too busy muttering to himself to hear any of it.

"I'm—what? Luna and I are—? Huh? Why is that even important? That doesn't have anything to do with… with anything!"

"Uhhh…" Prompto let out a nervous laugh. "Think about it this way, Noct… you've always been saying she's your girlfriend, and now she's gonna be a… full-time, live-in girlfriend! I think they call those '_wives_'."

"But it's not _fair!_" Noctis motioned with his hands and made incoherent noises that soon lined back up into recognizable thought, "It's not right, it's not fair to her! To either of us! Doing this because the Empire _wants it_ to happen? The hell!"

Gladio motioned for him to control his breathing and settle down. Ignis was beginning to feel sick _for _Noctis if Noctis weren't already close to retching from the stress.

"It's unfair to her in another way." That's about as much as Ignis could say before he put his focus into staying conscious and blocking out the effects of Noct's excitement.

"Oh, man… true…" Prompto mused. "_Which _Noct is she gonna marry?"

The sound of 'which Noct' blew out the fuse of the Prince's temper and kicked him back into the '_Don't talk about it_' mode reserved for any mention of the decoy. He settled back into his seat and looked out to the side of the road, unresponsive.

Prompto couldn't help but feel for Noct. Pretty rough, knowing that such a special occasion wasn't even meant for the guy it was mentioning so much as it was for the guy everyone _thought of_ when the name came to mind.

They drove to the intersection near Hammerhead; the station was just to their left, and Prompto spotted Cindy. He was ready to whistle in greeting, but she was busy with someone. A guy. It wasn't Cid. Younger. Pissed off. Cindy didn't look like she was in the best of moods either. Was that guy giving her attitude?

Prompto averted his gaze and said nothing about it. He didn't want to dismiss it with it not being his business, but they couldn't stop to address it when Noctis already wanted them to head to Insomnia so he could seek an audience with his father. Prompto tried to push his current concern out of mind. They wouldn't have time for it.

( Ignis could read his concern clear as day, though. )

When they cleared the Viewbliss Outpost and were halfway across the Ostium Gorge, they heard the Regalia sputter.

It was able to pull Noctis out of his sulk. "... What's happening?"

The car kept sputtering, and Gladio turned and spotted white smoke leaving the tailpipe. That wasn't a good sign, and neither was that sweet smell he caught either. It wasn't close to the same sweet as the Daemonsbane plant, so he couldn't confuse the two.

"Not anything good," he replied.

Ignis needed no more to be said. The life left the Regalia with each second, and he eased his foot off of the gas pedal to let it slow enough that he could pull it to the side of the road with no issue and stop.

"This isn't... ?" The plea in Noct's voice was palpable; he wanted someone to deny the obvious in order to give him a shred of hope again.

They were fresh out. Gladio shook his head. "A stroke of bad luck. We push it, and it'll be worse for the old girl."

They all got out of the car and saw the lingering plume of white smoke. Popping the hood for a check sounded good, but only that. _Sounded _good. No word on what they'd find if they did or how to explain it.

Prompto feared asking, but… "What do we do now?"

"We gotta call up Cindy, have her tow this thing to Hammerhead, ASAP."

"We leave it to the experts." Ignis took off his glasses to wipe them.

Noct pulled out his phone and dialed Cindy. Prompto spotted that, and the phone rang _almost _two times before he strode up and snatched the phone out of Noct's hands.

"Hey, what the—!"

Prompto stepped back and held the phone up to his ear just in time to hear the irritated "_Hello?_" on the other end.

"Hey, Cindy~!"

"_Wh—Oh, Prompto!"_ Cindy's tone did a one-eighty. "_Thought it was that cityslicker friend of yours callin again—"  
_  
"Nah, nah, don't worry, I'm borrowing his phone. It's just, mine died, never noticed the battery was so low—" He was turning his own phone off as he spoke.

"_Naw, it's fine, really. Tell me what ya need!"  
_  
"Yea, about that… the Regalia broke down, we need it fixed."

"_I'll be right there! See ya soon, Sugar!"  
_  
The call ended and he tossed the phone back to Noct.

"What was that for?"

Prompto glared like the question was as dumb as Noct looked. "If it were up to _you_, we'd end up pushing the car by ourselves. Don't piss her off and don't waste her time. Simple stuff to follow."

If Noctis's temper had 'flared' before, the implication that he couldn't handle a simple phone conversation sent it into a full-on explosion. "The hell d—"

Ignis caught Noct in a choke hold and whispered something to him that only he could hear. All struggle ceased; his eyes closed and his breathing slowed. He was knocked out, hit with the incantation to a Sleep spell. What he had heard from Ignis was, "_Drift now, into the sea of unconsciousness…_"

Gladio looked from Noct to Iggy. "You've been dying to do that to him, huh?"

"Oh, was I ever."

"Feeling better?" Prompto would be lying if he said he wasn't grateful.

"Absolutely. And now we wait."

The truck came by to haul the Regalia back to Hammerhead. Prompto rode shotgun with Cindy. Ignis and Gladio rode in the back, with Gladio using his shoulder to support the most royal sack of potatoes he'd ever had the pleasure of Shielding.

Ignis watched the two in the front cab. Cindy kept her eyes on the road, of course, but from Prompto's looks to her and his mouth movements, she was at least entertaining whatever topic they were on. "I wonder what he's talking about with her?"

Gladio shrugged. "Probably about chocobos, or what happened earlier today."

"... Sounds like him, yes."

( "There's somethin' different about you," Cindy said.

"Huh, really?" Prompto scratched at the side of his face, bashful.

"Yeah! Ya feel… I dunno… _different_. More 'out there'." She laughed to herself and took on a teasing tone. "What's goin' on, someone caught your eye?"

He shrugged. "Maybe. I dunno yet. I guess I'm just… being more me. If that catches someone's eye and they like it, then that's cool. What about you, though, what's up?"

She sighed. "It's been a lo~ng day."

"Is it…? Just saying, I thought I saw someone at Hammerhead—"

"Mm-mm, don't worry about it, Sugar. Nothin I'm not already used to."

"It's okay. I mean, if ya wanna vent, you're not bothering me."

"Well…" )

Said sentient sack of spuds stirred into sleeplessness and blinked everywhere while he gathered his wits. When he realized where he was and came to the obvious conclusion that he hadn't gotten there on his own, he shot Ignis a look. "You son of a bitch."

For an attosecond, the retainer let a thought creep into his mind that _I ought to feed you your teeth. _But he said nothing.

Noctis huffed, and looked toward the cab. "Hope he's enjoying himself."

"Probably is. Let him chat with Cindy while he can. You can ream him later, alright?" Gladio ruffled Noct's hair, and earned a distressed noise from the prince.

( "...and he went and called _me_ a dummy. But, less politely."

"He did _not_." Prompto's look was the picture definition of 'incredulous'.

"Yeap, he did. I dunno what it is with people throwin' the biggest fits when they know they're in the wrong. He could've gone anywhere else, but he didn't wanna pay for it and do everythin' by the books like he shoulda."

"That's awful… what was his name again?"

"Oh, I dunno, some highfalutin rich boy name… right, right, he said his name was _Dimitri Caraway_. Goin' on about this 'n' that, he's all the way in Lestallum so he knows somebody who knows somebody and whoever that is, I'm never gonna hear the end of it from _them_, so on and so on. I mean, he's outta the shop by now, but _really_."

"Yeah, that's… I'm really sorry you had to put up with that." Prompto shook his head, if that were any consolation.

"Nah, don't be sorry. Like I said, I'm used to it." Cindy smiled back. "But you're right, talkin' to you about it made me feel a lot better. Wonder why."

"Because I'm me, of course!"

They both laughed. )

Noctis rubbed at his face and eyes, like tiredness or a headache had settled in there and he wanted it out.

Gladio didn't miss that. "Something wrong, Noct?"

"The peace treaty."

"What about it? Aside from the… everything."

"The letter that Luna sent. The part she wanted just me to read… sounded like she knew about it already."

A shrug to that. "Her brother works for the Empire. Probably been feeding her information. Letter says he hardly talks to her, doesn't mean he doesn't talk to her at all. He makes sure his words count, gives her time to prepare."

Ignis gave it some thought. "Or she talks to him more often than even we know, and covers up his involvement by stating she's not in communication with him at all."

"Covers it up, even to me?" Noctis hadn't figured out yet how not to sound hurt about such things.

"Plausible deniability. Sometimes the less there is to know about something, the better."

Gladio chuckled. "Man, hearing that come from you is…"

"It's what?"

"I'm just saying, you're the type that doesn't leave any stone unturned. Didn't picture you to argue in favor of ignorance."

"Not ignorance. _Safety_. Knowledge is pointless without proper application of it. Ferreting around in certain affairs does no good if it puts others in danger."

Gladio nodded.

Noctis sighed. That note she had him write left him uneasy.

They made it to Hammerhead, and Cid hobbled out of the garage to give the Regalia a look. When he propped the hood open, he tested out the radiator among other things. The check left him satisfied that he found _something _that was fixable, but he wasn't pleased at what exactly it was.

"I'll tell y'all right now why this beauty broke down. When's the last time ya even checked her? She went and blew her gasket."

The others looked at Prompto, who scratched at the back of his head. It was his turn to check everything on the Regalia, and he just neglected to. The fact that the coolant had evaporated quickly for no good reason would have been hint enough. Hindsight was a powerful tool.

Cid gave Noct a good once-over. "Lookin' at the sorry state you're in, though, it was either her or you. News got ya like that already, huh?"

Noct sighed. He didn't want to talk about that yet. "How much will it take?"

"It'll cost a pretty gil, that's for sure. At least two grand."

Prompto showed off the bag of gil from the reward earlier, though it was less full than before. "You mean this much?"

Cindy whistled, impressed. "Almost like you'd been waitin' to pull that out, huh?"

Prompto smiled at her like there was a 'pull out' joke practically writing itself, but he wouldn't say. He just handed her the gil bag and kept his mouth shut.

Cid gave a couple of nods. "Alright, now ya gotta wait. If y'got someplace else to be, feel free to rent out a ride, be sure you bring that back in one piece. And, kid," once more an aside to Noct, "I ain't the type to say this, but… trust your dad. He must'a done this for a reason."

Noct gave a reluctant nod. His dad and Cid had a falling out way back when, to the point where the King learned to fix the Regalia himself so as to never see his former friend's face again. Even with that, each of them had to admit that the other was useful for _something, _in a 'broken clock is right twice a day' kind of way, but it was more difficult for Regis to do that than for Cid. Cid at least had life experience to help him recognize Regis's stubbornness, so he _usually _saw Noct's side of things whenever he had something to say about how unreasonable the King was.

The guys took their leave of the garage, and Prompto stepped aside from the rest of the group to get his phone out. He turned it on and saw missed calls and voicemails in his call log. He dialed his voicemail line and listened.

Nope, never mind. It was a telemarketer. Hated those things. Deleted, skipped to the next one.

"_Darling Blackbird,"_ came his mother's voice. "_I hope you heard the news of the treaty. It all sounds quite wonderful! Though I am worried about your friend. He's a bit young for marriage. But, we cannot complain, the less chance of war the better. I wonder if the wedding will be soon… if it is, and you must go with him, have fun there, and take many pictures. Love you, and always watching!"_

"Love you too," he mouthed, and put the phone away. He returned to the rest of the group and found Noctis being impatient with himself again.

Whatever time wasn't taken by the prince's paces back and forth saw him tap his foot on the ground and run his fingers through his hair. "It doesn't sound like a good idea anymore," he said.

"What doesn't?"

"Going to Insomnia. Not with what's going on. The press there must be going nuts. Trying to get a word from Dad about everything. I show up there wanting to see him, and everything goes up in smoke. So, I guess after this is done, we… go to Galdin. Luna's letter said she was already going to Altissia. The terms mention that, too, so… Gladio is right on that one. Maybe she knew ahead of time. This might even be her plan."

Ignis rubbed his chin in thought. "She cannot be in two places at once, and so… the stipulation of marriage was added in to give her reason to be away from the signing itself, and she informed you of her trip in a way that you would accept, so that you join her."

Noct scratched at the back of his head. "Yeah, something like that."

"Something strikes me as… off, about that."

"Huh?"

"I don't think it needs to be said."

Noctis's look turned despondent. "Yeah."

Again, the political decoy. Both he and the decoy couldn't be in Altissia at the same time, could they? Luna couldn't leave the other Noctis at the altar, either, or reveal there was a real Noct to begin with.

Though Regis tried hard to keep a tight lid on any media exposing either Noctis's face and voice, he still kept the decoy prince in anything approaching a spotlight when it came to domestic political affairs, seen by real faces involved in such things. That was who everyone would _expect_ to marry the Princess after the signing went through. Even Niflheim would expect it; 'unfortunate' and 'untimely' leaks of the decoy's appearance 'despite Regis's best efforts' made the deception more legitimate yet. That in turn made it harder for Noctis to claim himself real.

Unless, somehow… it sounded farfetched, but the decoy wouldn't be needed anymore once the peace treaty was formalized. He was there to protect Noctis's identity from the Empire in case of abductions, assassination plots. Once the Empire wasn't a threat anymore, the other Noctis could go away, right?

No, it couldn't work like that. As much as he wanted it to be that simple to lift the veil, the fallout that would cause once the people realized that they'd been tricked by their own King, just to save one person, was undeniable. That, and any rumor at all that the Fleurets were involved in it too would spell disaster for both Houses. They would lose any favor and support; he didn't imagine people would take well to being lied to, for any reason. So, it'd have to continue. It'd gone on too long to abandon. It could even be cause for Niflheim to break the treaty.

It went through his mind in simple terms: _This whole anonymity thing sucks._

* * *

What the protectorate of Tenebrae lacked in vastness, it made up for in wonder, or so its inhabitants hoped. The area in northern Ulvar was a place of high cliffsides and towering spires, lush trees and dizzying bridges, flowing cascades and floating islands, and sprawling fields of blue blossoms. The stone was worn and time showed itself well on it, but the manor at the heart of the former Kingdom exuded a quiet strength much like the Priestess that still lived within its walls.

The young woman descended the stairs to the manor with the _clack-clack-clack _of her shoes hitting each step and the train of her swallowtail dress trailing behind her. Whether she had intended to leave or if she found exactly what she sought at the last landing, that distinction mattered little. There was still a man waiting for her at the door.

The man's platinum blonde hair reached to his shoulders, and was messily swept back. Though he looked gaunt thanks to the hollow of his cheeks, his physical figure was still imposing. He stood a head taller than the young woman, for sure.

He was dressed in the white of the Empire, though with accents of purple. That he worked for Niflheim didn't bar him from wearing the symbols of his homeland, however; a wolf's head crest still adorned the shoulder of his left sleeve, and a unicorn crest did the same just above the hem of his frock. Both creatures were Messengers made by Priestesses past who were ancestors to both him and his sister.

"No plans to escape this time, I hope?" He cast upon her a discerning gaze in two colors; his right eye was blue, but the left purple.

She dismissed it easily. "I've no need, a lesson learned since that time. Why a needless struggle?"

He strode towards her and stopped short, close that she would hear him speak in hushed tone of warning, "I advise you not test the limits of the Empire's mercy. The only reason we remain alive is that our veins course with blood of power."

"That blood did not save our mother."

His look faltered.

She strode past him. "I understand your concern and your actions thus far, but there _are _other ways to achieve what you desire. You'll see."

"And how would you know that?"

She cast a warm smile. "Because it is my brother I speak to. A _boneheaded_ elder brother, but mine regardless. You're the Ravus that sees reason."

He had an image to uphold as a knight of the Empire, enforcer to its laws and Deputy High Commander of its army, but in this place, he _was _indeed her brother, and so he allowed himself to smile back even if in the way the moon reflected sunlight. "You sound as if I'd ever left your side."

"You had, once. But that's past."

She opened the doors out of the manor and made her way to the field of blossoms native to their land. Her personal field was here beside the manor, but below the floating isle, there were hills and valleys of the same. Whenever the wind blew it gave the mesmerizing impression of rolling waves.

Zealblossoms were a hardy bunch of shoots; they looked barely capable of staying in full bloom for a week or two before a flood of rain or the press of sunlight wilted them. Yet if one were to watch them, they survived that without so much as a petal out of place. They withstood snowfall and patiently waited for the last flake to melt into dewdrop as only a matter of time.

As Noctis had once put it in a letter to her, '_Sounds like a great-great-ancestor of yours made just as great fertilizer'_. She was certain there was a special place in the underworld created for her the second she laughed at that joke.

Off-color humor aside, the vivid blue flowers were an additional symbol that the people held to, as proof of their faith in the House Fleuret. What better bloom to represent their leader than a delicate-seeming thing that outlasted whatever calamity would befall it?

She stood in that field and quietly basked in the warmth of the sun and the feather-light zephyr that smoothed over her skin and grazed at the flowers near her feet. It was nice.

Her brother's words ensured her mind didn't wander, however. "Do you still correspond with him?"

"I sent him a letter with Umbra this morning. Is that your concern?"

"It is. Be sure that Prince Noctis stays away from the Crown City. I've no quarrel with him."

"Noctis is away from Insomnia already, and has been for days. His absence happened without my involvement. As it turns out, he and his father are not on the best of terms."

"Good. I will see to it that the King alone pays for his cowardice."

She looked over her shoulder to Ravus. "Things will not be that simple. As tense as their bonds are, Noctis is still his father's greatest defender. Nothing less is expected of family. The travels around Lucis are not in rebellion, but to prove himself worthy of the throne. It's a matter of pride."

"That pride blinds him."

"It does. Love, too, prevents us from seeing people as they truly are… is that not so?"

"No… I don't believe that. It ennobles; I've seen that with my own eyes."

She faced forward once more, so that he wouldn't see her smile. The brother that sees reason, indeed.

An indistinct shape approached them from the southwest. From Niflheim. As it closed the distance it took form as an aircraft, but nothing so drab and minimalist and _unsettling _as an Imperial dropship. It bore the flag of the Empire, sure, but looked more like a house built with white columns and walls, red and gold decor on the gable roof, a waist-high wrap around porch, and a wind-chime at the door that wasn't truly one, just the strung-together fangs of a long forgotten beast. A family of five could live in it comfortably, but from what she could see, there was only one occupant.

The houseboat lowered itself just shy of actual earth, close enough that Prince Asterid cleared the gap with a step, and strode toward the siblings in the field.

Ravus deemed the other 'close enough' at meters away, and stepped forward to place himself between the Prince of Niflheim and Princess of Tenebrae.

"We did not expect an appearance from you, Your Highness."

"Not 'we'. Just _you_." Asterid turned his attention to the woman a distance off. He took a step to the side to go around, but Ravus mirrored it and barred his path.

"What is your business with her, that you come here on a whim?"

Asterid reached into his inner coat pocket and procured a letter with the wolf's head seal, and unfolded it with the fingers of the same hand to show the signature of _Lunafreya Nox Fleuret. _"Surely you recognize your sister's writing?"

Ravus did, and that she signed with _that _name left him none too pleased. He turned to Luna. "What are you planning?"

"You seek answers, yet ask the wrong questions," she replied.

It dawned on him that he could not stop this meeting and had delayed it for long enough, and so he stepped aside and allowed Asterid to walk past.

The Prince held a hand out to the Princess. "Shall we?"

"We shall." Luna took the hand offered, and together they left toward the houseboat.

She spared a glance back to Ravus. "Be well, dear brother. I'm to head to Altissia."

Asterid did the same. "We are not enemies, Commander. Don't act as if we are, for I would hate for the Lady to lose what family she has left."

They stepped into the Imperial craft, and it broke away from the floating land and rose further yet. It headed back south.

Ravus watched them go, and let out a sharp exhale.

* * *

The customary imperative to make oneself at home went unsaid for Luna. As soon as they crossed the deck and entered the sitting room, she spotted a wicker chair in the corner nearest to her and claimed it as hers. Not by saying, but by doing: she sat on it with a leg crossed over the other and her hands folded upon her lap. With the chair's handcrafted and intricate weave and the way the back of it fanned out like a peacock's tail, it looked like she belonged there.

Asterid didn't object. He took his own seat across from her, on the opposite end. "To what do I owe the honor of your presence?"

Luna held her head high, proud of what she would respond with. "I sent for you to ensure that you kept true to your word."

"That I wouldn't rapture you from your home without warning? I wasn't aware the Priestess had a sense of humor to that extent."

"I do. It helps that our talk allows that I get a view of this houseboat. I've always wanted to try one of these."

"... The interview was conducted early this morning. How would you have sent your pet beforehand _and _take into account what I would say?"

"I'm an early bird; I like to listen to the radio, at times. It helps on the days when I'm not allowed to leave my home."

"Except now."

"Except now. I have company."

"You rely on a prince from another country for companionship and freedom?"

"I wasn't referring to only you." She smiled and looked to something at Asterid's left side.

He followed her gaze and—was this other woman here the _whole time?_

This new woman was paler than the Priestess herself, and the jet black hair that fell in a straight fringe just above her brows and otherwise cascaded past her shoulders provided interesting contrast with her fair skin. Just as interesting was her attire, the dominating black of her gown accented with a brocade of gold or a darker black in a notably floral pattern. The white sash that wrapped around her sleeves had the occasional print of a four-pointed star, or a gold pin of the same.

His inspection of her stopped at the hands neatly folded on her lap in a mirror of Princess Luna... or at least he _tried_ to stop there. He still noticed that her boots were long enough that they reached above her knees but not enough to meet the hem of her gown as the gown only went down to mid-thigh, and so they left a strip of exposed skin there.

"I believe the saying goes, '_My eyes are up here_'?"

He blinked once, twice. Looked up to the woman's face. Her eyes were closed. "You …?" He had either asked who she was, how she had seated herself beside him without his noticing, or how she had the audacity to refer to 'eyes' as she spoke to him without even opening hers.

"Forgive Gentiana, she has an even worse sense of humor than I do," Luna said with poorly-hidden mirth.

"A Messenger," Gentiana said of herself. "I trust that you have heard of our kind?"

"I have. The exalted ones, blessed by the Priestess herself. None are as long-lived as you, from what I've read. You began serving since Stella Lux's time in this world, and have been with each Priestess since."

"Ah… how astute, this boy." She smiled. Still didn't open her eyes.

"Thank you. I'm curious… certainly with your lifespan and the breadth of your work, at some point, all of those Priestesses seem the same to you?"

Gentiana shook her head. "They do not. I remember them all, from the first to the last."

"The late Queen Sylva included?"

Silence.

"That was a terrible loss for you."

"It was."

He watched as her hand closed more tightly into a fist. _The wound is still fresh, or at least you feign such. A show of anger doesn't mean you have a heart. _"You seem tense. Care for a drink?"

"**No.**"

She hadn't raised her voice. She still hadn't opened her eyes. Yet the way she had said that simple word made his skin feel like nothing more than an oversized and scratchy robe that could be pulled away from him easily.

He tore his attention away from her and towards his true guest. "Would you care for one...?"

"Oh, yes, I'd love a drink." Luna gave a single nod. "A glass of icewine, please."

Asterid tilted his head in curiosity. "The icewine is native to your land."

"I'm aware, but it tastes better when served by another."

"You may be thinking of sandwiches."

"Perhaps."

He understood a little more of Lunafreya, now. Not about sandwiches or drinks, no, besides that. That dog 'Pryna' that had visited him earlier must have been another of the Messengers, accounting for the long distance crossed in such short time. With a Messenger able to appear anywhere at will, the Princess likely devised having him visit her the moment his interview was over, and with Pryna's aid she hadn't wasted time in either direction.

To contain such immense power in an innocuous form… exalted creatures could take appearances more appropriate to their power, and from what he had read, Fenrir was two men tall from paws to withers. Who would have known that the Icewolf's successor would be an _average_-sized wolfish hound that could at best evoke tales of the messenger dogs that ran through trenches and skirted minefields, back in the beginning times of the centuries-long war?

There was Pryna, and there was Gentiana. A wolf-dog and a woman. No one would think anything of either being. The Priestesses valued subtlety, or at least, some did. Whether their creations honored that is another matter.

He poured a glass of icewine and offered it to Luna. She accepted it gratefully, and took a sip.

Still no word from Gentiana, however. She continued to watch without looking, for lack of better terms.

There was no trepidation in his approach to her, though he did cross his arms and drum his fingers alongside the opposite arm. "Which god do you serve?"

Gentiana tilted her head as if to listen to him better, though she heard him fine. "I serve not the gods, but the House Fleuret."

"Messengers may be created _by_ the Fleurets, but they exist to exert the _gods'_ wills over mankind in their absence."

"Not to exert. To make their wishes known."

"And what _are_ their 'wishes'?"

"To ensure that the House Fleuret lives on."

"What of House Caelum?"

"That it lives long enough."

"And of Aldercapt?"

Silence again.

"Do I take your quiet to mean that my father and I will die?"

"The boy is not yet fated to die." She said nothing about the elder.

If he took her at her word, it would mean believing that she had precognitive gifts. If she did, she'd do best to save it for her gods, for if they intended to see or cause the end of the Aldercapt line, they would need it.

"It makes you feel better about yourself, doesn't it?" he asked, and let his arms fall to his sides once more. "Knowing things that others don't."

"We Messengers do not fulfill our calling for personal pleasure."

She spoke in a way that _sounded_ wise, but he spotted a false note of abnegation to her words. A crack in the 'guarded and knowing' armor like the tension in her fingers before.

"So, tell me then… with your gifts, did you not save the Queen because you were _powerless _to, or because you didn't _want _to?"

She frowned.

"If you cared so much for her, you should have been more useful—"

Pain flared from his right shoulder. That arm was twisted behind his back. The cold of a blade nestled against his throat.

The seat in front of him was empty.

Her breath grazed the shell of his ear in a hiss, "_**Mind your tongue,**_" and set his skin to prickle with the incessant crawl of insects on its surface. It felt both taut and too loose, numb from cold and lanced with heat.

He quashed such things. A second's flush may have been beyond his control, but he could not bear his title if he were brought to heel by a mere Messenger. "_Cut it out._"

"Agreed. Cut it out, Gentiana."

The blade drew no blood. His arm was released. The Messenger returned to the Priestess's side. Her eyes were open this time, at least. Olive green with flecks of gold radiating from the center. He'd never seen those kinds of eyes before.

"You've had enough fun for today," Luna said, and with a flourish of her fingers, all that was her companion scattered to every way, like dust motes or petals in the wind. She took another sip of icewine. "Forgive Gentiana, the loss of my Queen Mother still grieves her."

"I can see that now." He brushed his fingertips along his neck where he'd felt the blade, just out of habit. "… To clarify, when I said 'cut it out', I meant that," he admitted.

"Oh, yes, I know. So did I." She took another sip.

Immense power in an innocuous form. He wondered if the people respected their Priestess, or if they feared her. Perhaps it was both.

The glass was halfway, and she set it aside. "Now that we are alone… There is talk of a peace treaty, I believe?"

"How would you know of that?"

"I found the timing of your interview auspicious. Why else would you have spoken of the Kingdom so boldly, but made clear your intent to reason with them? Gentiana confirmed my conjecture, so worry not of deceit on her part; she does serve me, as she said."

"... Very well. _Yes, _if House Caelum concedes to it, then there _will be_ a treaty signed in the coming days."

"I have faith in their compliance. You will make course for Insomnia. I assume your father the Emperor will be headed there as well."

"East to Insomnia, _not _Altissia? Why? The signing doesn't require your presence."

There was more warmth in her smile yet. "It's not the _signing_ that I will be there for, but for Prince Noctis. I wish to look on him with my own eyes."

* * *

Two Kingsglaive stood just outside the door of their friend's bedchamber. Not that he needed a protective detail, being himself a veritable fount of the King's magic, but they were alongside him in most travels as it was, so a show of support in one of the greatest steps the Kingdom would take was more or less second nature to the two.

The eldest of the two Glaives was a heavyset young man with his brown hair braided on the left side of his head and the rest of his hair pulled back in a ponytail. He wore the standard black uniform of the unit, but didn't wear the mask that would usually conceal his face, showing the subtle but numerous tattoos that littered his face if not the rest of his body. They were either arrows or crow feet, he wouldn't say which, not even to the fellow Glaive he said was like a sister to him.

That sort-of-sister was right beside him, with her hair in a loose bun. She wore a variant of the uniform meant for soldiers that excelled in the use of the King's magic; the Lucian shade of black, but as a jacket and full bodysuit with matching boots. What made the whole thing work was her red leather gloves, and she was the only one—the _only_ one, her sort-of-brother swore up and down to that—that could rock the red-interior cape around her shoulders like some kind of superhero. She even carried a red gemstone around her neck, though like her sort-of-brother and his tattoos, she wouldn't say what her gemstone was about either.

They heard the plod of boots and jitter of chains before the person with those things would come into view.

"Mm, it's Captain Drautos. Look alive, Crowe," the man said to his companion.

"Can't believe I'm hearing that from _you_, Libertus," she replied.

Captain Drautos approached, dressed in a modified version of his unit's garb. That he had been part of the Kingsglaive since its inception showed in each scar he bore in place of a tattoo. It showed in the wear of his red leather jacket and black boots, and in the dimmed out light behind his eyes. He had braved the worst parts of Niflheim's and Lucis's war, and seen it ravage his homeland about thirty years ago. He looked maybe a decade older than that, decade-and-a-half at best. Word was that he was taken in by His Majesty when the King was just a Prince, and the now-Captain became King Regis's confidant if not something like a younger brother.

The Kingsglaive saluted their Captain, he returned it, and they all stood in wait.

They'd all be lying if they said news of the upcoming treaty signing didn't distress them. Niflheim and Lucis had fought for too long and too often for an end in sight to be likely. But at least the Glaives would no longer be relegated to being glorified magic receptacles, doing paltry patrols in Galahd. The magic was handy for what daemons would show up in the night out there. It didn't improve the natives' opinions on the King, and even the Glaives themselves were looked at like traitors for 'siding' with the royals, but… this was the only way to get a shred of the power and safety that they used to have decades ago.

Perhaps Nilheim would be true to its word, and the Glaives wouldn't even need to patrol anymore. No more focusing their efforts solely on stopping their home from getting worse; they could rebuild, too, and prosper as they had before. The treaty itself had to do with the use of the Crystal. If all went well, Galahd would again know the safety of being under the Star of Lucis's protection. For that, they had to trust King Regis in the way that they trusted his son.

The doors to the bedchamber finally opened, and a man emerged. He was about the same age as the first two Glaives, and as tall as the Captain himself. He was a veteran of the unit, same as Drautos. He was practically second in command, and he had his own scars to prove it, faded as they were. He still had idealism in the eyes, though, he wasn't as jaded as his superior.

The formality was dealt with in seconds. Salute given, salute returned. Then he allowed his friends to get a better look at him.

"Huh, so _that's_ why you let your hair grow out…" Libertus said.

Crowe shook her head at Libertus. "Any more obvious and he'd have to wear a neon sign for you."

Thankfully there was no neon sign needed. Their fellow guard wore a uniform like theirs, but his seniority was in full view with accents of purple ribbons and blue-gray furs, and the silver horn on the hood of his outfit. This time he had something more than just that; the tattoos on his face matched those of Libertus and he had gotten them long ago as a show of friendship—now, the sides of his head were shaved, and the rest of his leonine hair was gathered up in loosely-done and narrow braids.

"The look suits you, Prince Noctis." That was all that Drautos would say on it, but there was a detectable glint of pride in his eyes, however small.

Prince Noctis acknowledged that with a nod. "Thank you, Sir. Means a lot coming from you."

* * *

**Author's Note: **The 'political decoy' appears! The Kingsglaive in general will feature more in the next few chapters.

Gladio's 'truth in media' spiel goes to anyone that's seen a movie filmed in a certain location but known the location well enough to spot the massive "geographical liberties" taken to have the characters travel impossibly far in a short amount of time, or traveling in the wrong direction. The map bit goes to people who know Alaska is a bigger landmass than Texas but keep seeing inaccurate depictions. See also: "Africa is a continent, not a country".

And yes, Prompto annoyed the hell out of Noct by playing Wonderwall. It's overplayed in their world too, but it pushes Noct's buttons especially hard because of the behind the scenes feud between Noel and Liam. He feels personally attacked by any reference to a younger brother jealous of the older one's success and popularity. Can you blame him, though?


	6. Innocence

**Author's Note: **In response to last chapter's Guest review- I'm not planning on posting the story to AO3. Whether I will in the future is a big fat Maybe.

* * *

**Chapter 6: Innocence**

While Noct paced around, he considered his options. By now it was clear that Luna knew more than she was allowed to say to him, and had known for months. He was sure of that, as that was when she sent the first odd letter to him, one about a dream she had. Imperials had found the notebooks they sent between each other—every single one happened to be in Luna's room, somehow, such was the logic of dreams—and used that to expose the decoy being what he was.

Those notebooks had every word between them, proof that he was the true Prince Noctis and not the commoner that went by Akihiko, even a cobbled-together escape plan made years ago to get Luna out of Fenestella. That plan didn't work out—she broke her arm and couldn't write back for a while until she recovered.

_Please dispose of them. We must keep only the one we use, _she'd written to him months ago. And he hadn't done that.

But at least he had them with him. Cleared out his apartment of every last scrap of paper to make sure he left nothing like it behind in Insomnia. He couldn't bring himself to set fire to what only things he had of her, and he'd said so in the last letter. He was sure she would understand.

Prompto scratched at the back of his head, shifting his weight from one foot to the other in nervousness. "It's gonna take Cid a while. What do we do in the meantime?"

"We still gotta head to Galdin, and set sail to Altissia as soon as we can. Hey, Gladio!" Noct whistled for his Shield's attention and motioned towards the Regalia. Their camping gear and the boxes of notebooks were still in the trunk—took a few minutes for them to whisk all those things away into their inventory until the Regalia was empty.

"Made the right choice, bringing them with you. No safer place," Gladio said.

"Huh? Oh, yeah… thanks."

Cid had set to work on the busted head gasket when Noctis went around to him.

"Hey, old man, if we don't come back in a couple of hours, then… put the car someplace safe."

Cid didn't even bother looking up. Not because he was rude, though he had his moments, but he was getting in that mechanic headspace that Cindy herself tended to dive into from time to time. That didn't mean he didn't listen. Evidence of his attention came in a nod. "We'll see if we can dress it up enough to hide it in plain sight in case anybody comes snoopin' around in light of this treaty business."

They rented another car. Different make and model, same year as the Regalia. Less sophisticated and sleek, and more subtle, suitable to hide their identities if anyone tried to guess the owner off of year alone. _That_ was the reason the Regalia was chosen to begin with. Noct had his own car, but a four year old car with such a unique design not only screamed that it'd come from Insomnia, but that it was commissioned by old money that could afford it. Hand-me-downs were easier to deal with, and the car they were renting must have had hundreds like it out in the road already. It would do.

As usual, Ignis behind the wheel, everybody else in their usual spots. Gladio complained a little about the lack of legroom, but it wasn't anything Prompto couldn't fix with a seat adjustment.

Back south, past the haven, and instead of the main road to Longwythe where Ignis would take a left, he took an earlier turn down a side road that wound south past some old minecart tracks and a Haven.

Prompto craned his neck and got eyefuls of sunny skies and golden dirt. "Wait, why are we going this way?"

"We could do with a change of scenery," Ignis said.

"There's a royal tomb around here, but it's inside the Balouve Mines." Noctis summoned the Royal Arm of the ancestor that the tomb belonged to, and inspected the bowgun in his hands.

Prompto whistled, impressed at the sight of it in the rear view mirror. "That's the 'Bow of the Clever', right?"

Noct couldn't help the smile on his face. "You learn fast. Yeah, it's the Clever's weapon. They called him the Winged King, too. He was so fast around whatever battlefield he was in, that it looked like he flew everywhere. Explains the name."

"Sure does. So… the whole thing with the tombs, and weapons… if every King had their own weapon, do they all have their own tomb?"

Ignis tilted his head in acknowledgment of the question, and Gladio gave a brief glance up.

Noctis shrugged. "It'd be nothing _but_ tombs all over the world if that was how that went. Too many kings, not enough material to go around."

"Material?"

"Mythril ore," Gladio said expansively. "It's not something you'd find in any of the _Origin_ books, but the tombs these Kings are buried in are made out of mythril. Deep in the old dungeons and mines, and I mean _way _deep, they found ore that was changed by the Crystal."

"Oh… wait, _how?_"

"How what?"

Prompto readjusted himself to look over the headrest of his seat. "I mean, how could the Crystal do that? It's been in Insomnia for, what, 2000 whole years?"

"Over _3000_ years, not 2000. The gods gave it to the Founder King ages ago, yeah, but they had to get it from somewhere. Wherever it was in the ground, that's where it slept, and all that light was still radiating out of it the whole time. The Crystal that's in Insomnia isn't even the whole thing."

Prompto was silent, but the furrow of his brows in concern said everything.

"This marks another time that Gladiolus is right," Ignis mused aloud, much to the Shield's chagrin at the implication. "Like most matters to do with the divine, it's more of a synecdochical approach—where a part of something is used to refer to the whole," he added, as he sensed the question at the tip of Prompto's tongue about that exact term. "In this case, the Crystal is only a small piece of the larger one that rests at the core of the planet. Were the gods to draw the _entire_ Crystal out of the earth, the planet would cease to exist. It would likely collapse under its own force after much turmoil and extinction-level disasters."

A cacophony of alarm bells and screaming violins played in Prompto's mind.

"But, the gods only chipped off a _fragment_ of the Crystal to gift to the Founder King instead. It's just as powerful as the whole. As to why that's the case, that's… simply how it is," Ignis concluded the explanation with a tone that suggested he was _not _satisfied with the answer, and it was likely given to him by someone or someplace else. The man loved having answers and explanations for things that got down to the root of it.

Prompto sat back in his seat properly. He wasn't satisfied either. _A Crystal that powers the whole planet… and the Kings only have it in _**_one_** _city? No wonder the Nifs have a problem._

Gladio took up the other dangling thread of the conversation. "So it's not the Crystal that Insomnia's got that made mythril, it's the one that's in the planet, even though they're the same thing. The light of it kind of…" he motioned with his hands as if twisting the faces of a cube, "rearranged how the ore works. Instead of normal metal used to make any old thing, this could ward away daemons. Like the Wall, except more solid."

"And the Kings took this 'legendary', Crystal-changed mythril whatever, to make… _coffins?_"

Gladio picked up the note of distaste in that question. "Would _you _wanna up and tell a King they're using _mythril _the wrong way?"

"I'd tell 'em it'd be put to good use in actual places people would _live in_ instead of using it on a bunch of dead guys, yeah!"

Gladio had to laugh at that. "Too mouthy for your own good if you pulled that one."

Noctis raised a brow. "Real quick, did you want me to _ignore_ you calling my ancestors 'a bunch of dead guys'...?"

Prompto shot a skeptical look at the prince via the rear view. "Oh, _sorry_, I didn't realize that _mattered_ to you, Prince Noctis Laurentius Antigonus Wenceslas Valerius Irenaios Caelum Tertius!"

As soon as 'Laurentius' was uttered, Noct's eyes widened and he leaned as far away as he could in his seat. At 'Valerius', the prince covered his face in his hands, and he looked utterly defeated by 'Tertius'. "How do you even _remember_ all that?"

"I got a good memory for names, sue me."

"I wonder if this counts as '_committing Nocticide_'?" Gladio's grin was all over that question, and he didn't budge an inch when Noct glared at him about it.

Ignis took a second out of his time to adjust his glasses. "Well, were he to die from literal mortification now… he'd have to be interred on Insomnian soil."

"Mm, not enough mythril? Or does it not come in a size that small?" Prompto stuck a thumb over his shoulder to the small fry in question.

That small fry was not too pleased. "Says the guy that's still shorter than me."

"Don't worry, I got the inches where it counts."

Gladio almost choked on air hearing that, and Ignis spared a quick glance at Prompto, but said nothing of the indecency in that statement though he had it on his mind. He coaxed the conversation back on track with, "Well, as was said, mythril is rare. Expensive. But given the ore's properties, it's nothing that couldn't be done by the Crystal itself."

"So, why not just bury _all_ the kings inside the Wall?"

"For the same reason the Priestesses created Havens, I believe."

"Huh… right, I get ya, I get ya." _At least they're useful for _**_something_**_._

"The point is, that without mythril or the Crystal, even royalty isn't safe from the dangers of burying the dead in unprotected soil."

"Daemons?"

"Yes. Do you remember the chapel we passed by in our ride around Longwythe?"

"Yeah, how couldn't I? Place looked heaps swanky for a church."

"That wasn't a church, that was a Lich House."

"... _No_."

"Yes."

"Aren't Lich Houses where they...? They really keep _dead bodies_ in there? Where people can just walk in and take a look?"

"It's a choice between keeping them above ground and within sight of the living, or leaving them to be food for daemons that _rise _from the ground. Which would you rather be, given those options?"

"I'd rather be _alive, _thanks!"

"A wise choice. Make sure it sticks."

"Heheh. You think that's bad, you should see what they _do _with the bodies in those Lich Houses." Gladio's voice vibrated with passion on a subject he should _not _have been so enthusiastic about, and Prompto would be lying if he said he didn't catch that. "First they check out their records from when they were alive, and figure out if the person had anything that could've been a cause of death before they study it for sure. They check for any scars, injuries, get hair samples, nail samples, they even check their bones. Then they cut the body open, start from shoulder joint to mid-chest, both sides, and then cut all the way down, the incision's supposed to make a Y-shape. After that, they take out the organs—but of course you gotta open up the ribs for that, that's a whole project by itself—"

Prompto raised his hands to cover his ears.

Noct shook his head in disappointment at his bodyguard. "And you think I'm bad because I watch movies about a cannibal…"

"Because that's all just _fake_ entertainment. How people out here handle their dead is _useful_ stuff."

"A documentary kind of guy. Gotcha. So, what else happens?"

"That depends. There's two methods they could use to take out the organs..."

From that thread, Gladio continued to describe the process, thankful that at least _someone_ wanted to know the important stuff.

Ignis sighed, and at the first opportunity when Prompto was allowed to uncover his ears, he held the blond's hand in consolation.

* * *

The four arrived at the Quay and backed the car into a parking spot next to some benches and a long pergola to shield them from the sun.

The old car found company with the topless muscle car beside it. The second car was rose colored with a single white racing stripe, and whoever owned it didn't let age get in the way of maintenance; Prompto caught the vague lemon scent of a recent wax job on the thing, and curiosity snared his gaze to a book in the passenger seat. Probably a copy of the _Origin of the Stars_, judging from its size and condition of the cover. Its reader must have felt safe to leave it there and not take it with them.

He and the others stepped out from under the shade and got their day's fill of towering palm trees and resort houses. The Culless Munitions truck was over to the right with no shortage of different daggers and shields, and Ignis took up customary inspection of the wares in case there was anything worth spending gil on.

Prompto descended the steps to the beach and wandered along the shoreline, down the western stretch of sand that didn't have restaurant tables occupied by people on dates. The sea was clear and reflected the blue of the sky above effortlessly. It was vast, and each ripple of water glittered in the sun.

"Whoa…" The blond bent down and cupped the water in his hands, watched it shimmer and then slide out from his opened fingers. This place was breathtaking. He could even call it romantic. Why had it taken them so long to visit this spot?

From the corner of his eye he spotted someone coming in from his left, and it didn't take long for the presence to resound in that familiar accent. "What you _sea_ before you is the Cygillian Ocean."

"Come on, Iggy, you can't just drop a joke like that out of the blue."

"Not without you trying to _pun_ish me for it, I take it."

Prompto allowed a wry smile to show on his face. "Find anything good?"

"Nothing that couldn't be matched with proper maintenance of the weapons we already have, no."

A sigh, then a gentle shake of the head. "I wanted to ask something, then… I dunno."

"Mm? That you don't know should be reason enough to ask the question, shouldn't it?"

"You're right. Still… kinda silly." He scratched at the back of his head, "Wondering what you'd be doing if you didn't… y'know, have the job you already got. You're a good cook, you could open up a restaurant. But that's easy, and you're good at a whole bunch of other things. Could be a mentor for the Junior Crownsguard. You could…" he shrugged, "open up your own weapons shop, repair stuff people bring in. Give the old man at Culless some competition."

"You think so?"

"I _know_ so. You'd pull off whatever you put your mind to. You're not even that far behind Gladio in the lore department. I mean, let's use that thing over there for an example." He pointed to something out in the distance, an island with protrusions that looked like dragon claws, or something else of the sort. "I'm willing to bet you can tell me _exactly _what that place is."

"Oh, that? That would be Angelgard. I'm afraid I can't tell you _exactly _what it is in great detail."

"Aww, you're making me look bad." To the right of the island, save for a brief space where the sky and the sea touched and blended together, there was something more. Looked like a flat ship with no sails. "What _is _that?"

"That is…" Ignis adjusted his glasses as if changing its magnification level, though he didn't need to do anything close with his keen eyesight. "Ah, that I _can _answer. It's an airship carrier."

"Airships… Nifs? They have dropships over there?"

"The very same. With the terms of the peace treaty being what they are, if Empire and Kingdom are to work together, it would be impossible for the army to mobilize their infantry all the way in Niflheim and still expect to have timely responses for the goings-on in Lucis should anything happen. That carrier likely houses multiple dropships, and an abundance of soldiers to match."

"... Yeah, I guess the Nifs'll want to spread their influence everywhere as much as they want Insomnia to help everyone else with the Crystal. Niflheim and Lucis joining forces, all the nations under one banner… didn't think we'd see anything like that in our lifetime."

"Ah? But it has been quiet these ten or so years…"

"Yeah, but more like an uneasy quiet, you know? Like, any time, the war would kick up again and go on for another hundred years, no problem."

"That is… I'm loath to say it, but that's true as well." Ignis offered a single nod in agreement. "This peace has been long overdue."

"Yeah, it has. I kinda… hope Noctis can appreciate this. … Don't tell him I said that, though."

"Your words are safe with me."

They looked out over the ocean together, and Prompto closed his eyes to listen to the waves. Whatever it was that Ignis felt when gazing at an open flame, it must have been like this. A peace that deafened one to the distractions around them. The chatter of the people didn't reach his ears. The rest of the world fell away, even the sand beneath his feet, but no panic struck. He knew, somehow, he was safe.

He sensed faint curls of wood smoke again, the last sigh of an extinguished flame. His hair was brushed in long, soothing strokes by something more solid, more deliberate than the wind. He reached to take that hand that he knew was there, not to swat it away, but to keep it close. Instead there was nothing but empty air to his touch.

"Huh… ?"

How long had he been standing here by himself? When did he lose track of the time, that Ignis could leave without a word?

_I had something to ask him_… but, Gladio was nearby. He would know.

He left his spot at a light jog and stepped out onto the dock where Gladio was seated, sans Noctis, to his surprise. "Hey, big guy."

Gladio looked over his shoulder to him, and cast a quick nod and a hum of acknowledgment. "Sup? Sound like you got somethin' on your mind already."

_Damn, saw right through me. _"Yeah, I do." He crouched to a sitting position near Gladio, and pointed out to the distant island. "It's about that place."

"Alright, what's the question?"

"Why do they call it Angelgard, anyway?"

"Easy. The way the earth is shaped into a pair of prongs," Gladio motioned with his fingers to the billowing shapes at either end, "looks like angel wings. You don't see it?"

"I… I don't." Prompto shook his head. "They look more like waves. Right where they reach as high as they can go, before they sweep away whatever's in front of 'em."

"Huh…" Gladio sounded as if he'd never considered that before it was said aloud. "You're thinking it should go by another name?"

"Maybe."

"Heheh. You'd have to make a good case for that, then. It already has another name people call it by. Took a minute for me to parse the meaning they were going for, but from context, it's called the Shadow God Island."

"Shadow…?" _A Shadow God? Like, part of the Hexatheon?_ Prompto's brows furrowed in skepticism. He wouldn't so easily forget the fable about '_the Empyrean_'. "There isn't a god like that in the stories about the Six, though."

"Yeah. That's what I thought, too. And it came off a bit too literal. Could be 'Shadow God', could be 'Divine Shadow', or something about the 'Spirit of the Dead' in general. But they do mean it as a God of Shadow, same as there's a God of Light, Fire, all that other stuff. He's not part of the Six in the way we know it, so the other versions of the _Origin _books from Insomnia wouldn't bother putting it in writing—too much dispute on the legitimacy of the Six that way. But you know, that doesn't stop people outside the Crown City believing in whatever." Gladio presented a different copy of _Origin of the Stars_, with a name that wasn't Calypso on the cover. Looked like he was done with that one; this edition was the _King Callidus_ version.

Something about the book tugged at the back of Prompto's mind. "Where the hell…?"

"Got it when we were going around Longwythe looking for work. King Callidus is the one with the tomb near there." Gladio set the book down and kept his hand on it.

Prompto's eyes followed that, and he smiled. Trust Gladio to protect his book from so much as a stray gust of wind. He looked back up at his friend. "So, King Callidus is the Clever? And, back when he was around, I guess he commissioned another version of the Cosmogony, and they put the local version of the myths?"

"Yup. That's how it usually goes. The Old Kings didn't just swing swords and sling spells; they were seekers of knowledge, too."

"Huh… so, a Shadow God… easy to guess he was opposite to the God of Light, right? But that way, it sounds like he's the one that…?"

"Oh, no, I get what you're thinkin'. Nah, it was definitely Ifrit." Gladio wagged his finger first, then gestured with his whole hand to the west, in the general direction of more of Lucis's landmarks that Prompto had yet to see. "We got Taelpar Crag to prove it, _and_ Mount Ravatogh. Those places are proof he was part of the War. What the Shadow God did was a bit more… '_out there_'."

"Mm? I don't get it." A quiet tilt of the head in question. "What's more _out there _than creating the world and everything on it? Or even making a plague?"

"Creating nighttime."

"Say what?"

"You heard me." Gladio picked up the Callidus version of the _Origin_ again and started to flip through the pages. "This book starts differently than the others. Usually goes that the world started with Light, Water, Thunder, all that. You know. The elements, and the gods to control them. But _this _one? When the world was still young and the Six watched over everything, it was nothing but daytime. The sun was out the whole day, and that's why Solheim was named the way it was. Why _Eos _is named what it is."

An empire named after the Sun, a world named after the Dawn. If they'd never heard of nighttime at all before then, it would make sense.

Gladio went on, "But it didn't stop at just Six gods, the way this book tells it. There was a seventh to complete their work and kind of… put everything in perspective. Could've been a coincidence, or maybe not, but when Solheim was starting to collapse, that's when the sun started going down, too. No one had the words for it until it happened. Sunset. Sundown. Dusk. And finally, Nighttime. So ever since then, there's been a cycle. The sun comes out, shines, then leaves, and night takes over. The locals here really think that the night is the Shadow God chasing the sun away on his horse. As a byname for that, he's called the 'Dark Rider', but as an 'official name', he's the _Stygian_."

"Stygian…?"

"It means '_extremely dark or gloomy'_." Gladio found the page that he was looking for, held the book open in front of Prompto, and pointed to the term _Stygius_ on the page. The rest of the book was written in the standard lexicon from what he could see, but as Gladio said before, there were some things that were relegated to stuffy terms, and this text looked worse than the Calypso one with its '_Spirits of the Six Within_'-tier translations.

Gladio added, "The term comes up a lot, not just because of the sundown, but to refer to the dead or dying. Says here he'd lead a procession of the dead every now and then. Lends itself to the island having to do with 'Spirits of the Dead'. Maybe it's true and he _was_ in charge of both. Sounds like it goes together."

"The Stygian brought nighttime to the world," Prompto murmured, and trailed his thumb over the page. "He had to do with people dying, too? Bet the Draconian wasn't too happy about that."

"Nah, probably not. But it sure made the _Infernian_ feel important, though."

"Ha! Right, yeah, Ifrit would keep everything bright while the sun was down. And… with the dead, I guess, he took care of that, too."

"It's not an accident they called Ifrit the Pyreburner, back in his time. _That, _the Draconian definitely wasn't fond of."

Prompto heard Asterid's words clear in his mind. _Does a fire not exude light? _It'd begun to make too much sense, those questions posed in the interview. The way he was connecting it at the moment… the Stygian created the darkness, _supposedly_, and Ifrit not only capitalized on the weakening influence of the Draconian by taking over his lightbringing duties, he even took over funeral rites, and the Stygian handled everything after that. That could've kicked off the Great War. Prompto didn't see _why _it needed to come to that, if Ifrit was doing a service, but the gods sounded really petty. But then also, Solheim itself, the people on it, betrayed Ifrit at some point too. Were _they _not happy with what Ifrit was doing, or with the coming of the night? Something about it didn't add up.

The Stygian at least sounded like Etro's Emissary, though, bringing the threads of human lives to her after they were cut, but there wasn't a mention of her in this book either, so he was just as 'out of nowhere' as the other Six were. Must have been a local god whose role was similar, the same way the Six and Etro were both credited for creating humans in their respective images.

"You think, maybe… the Prince of Niflheim has a point?" he asked. "That what we know isn't what we _should _know? It isn't the whole thing?"

"Hey, whoa, I wouldn't go _that _far." Gladio raised his hand to stop that line of thought right there; even his voice took on a borderline-fatherly '_slow down there, Tiger_' tone. "Anybody can put something on paper. They can even rip pages out or leave stuff out entirely. There'd really be only one way to prove it."

"How? It's not like we can go back in time and watch when exactly the world started."

The Shield chuckled to himself. "It's all on whether or not there's anything left behind from those who came before." He put the book back down, and gestured again towards Angelgard, or the Shadow God Island, whatever its real name was. "There's something else about that place, and trust me, this is gonna be relevant. Keep in mind what I'm gonna say right now."

"Pfff. Why would I doubt at this stage?"

The smile from Gladio was warmer than Prompto expected it to be.

"Legend has it that the Dark Rider gave up one of his eyes for the Wisdom of Ages; knowledge of everything that ever was, and will be. Everything to do with mortals and the divine. Just, gouged out an eye and dropped it into a well in the middle of the island. So… Whoever makes it to that island, if they got hold of that missing eye of his, they'd know for sure that it really happened. Maybe even get to know as much as he did. From the sound of it, though, that's too much knowledge for a regular person to handle. S'gotta be a reason only a _god_ tried pulling that off."

"So, lemme see if I got this right," Prompto motioned with his hands as if balancing all the information on his palms, "what you're telling me is that Angelgard is an _eye-land?_"

The warm smile that had lasted through the explanation turned into a Neutral Face of Displeasure.

Prompto shot back a grin that said he couldn't be held responsible for his puns. "Couldn't help it, man, I'm sorry. But… thanks. This is way more than I was expecting when I first asked. It's interesting stuff. And… you know what?"

"Mm? Better not be another pun you're planning."

"Trust me, it's not. Just… I think it makes a little more sense, now. Even the whole 'eye' thing. I think he got a balance out of it." Prompto covered his left eye with his hand to demonstrate. "One eye that could see the light, and the other one that couldn't. He must've gotten the idea to give that to the world, except cycled it to make it equal. Even the way the calendar works, I think it fits. Seven gods… seven days of the week?"

There was a quirk to Gladio's brows that said '_Really now?_' "You sure you're not just seeing things there?"

Prompto shook his head. "I think there's a method to it. Each one works for a god, and sometimes the planets line up with that. Sunday is for the Draconian. God of Light and all, the Sun, that's obvious. Monday is… the Hydraean. Water, oceans, tides, all that's related to the Moon, or Neptune."

"Uh huh…" Gladio was following it well enough.

"The Infernian's got Tuesday. He's got the planet Mars to himself. Not all that flattering, personification of war and all, but at least they got the whole 'red' and 'fiery' thing in common. The Fulgurian's got Thursday, and Jupiter. I get it almost _doesn't _make sense, because, the way we write it out, it's…"

Prompto pressed a fingertip to the wood of the dock, and traced it to spell the characters for _mokuyōbi. _"It almost doesn't make sense," he repeated. "We write out '_wood_', or '_old tree_', but then… why wouldn't the Fulgurian fit it? _He's_ old, or at least, that's how he reads like in the books. Like a wise man, with an old oak staff. So that's his day.

"The Glacian is Friday, and gets the association to Venus on account of the 'compassion and love' bit. The Archaean is Saturday, 'Saturn Day', more or less." For the Archaean, he traced out _doyōbi, _to show why it fit given the first character in the term was for 'earth'.

"Wednesday?"

Prompto looked up. "Huh?"

"You missed out on Wednesday."

"... Uh… right, yeah…" Prompto looked down at the pier, even though he hadn't truly written anything on it. "Maybe the Stygian's got that one?"

"In that case, I got a question for you. Monday's got to do with the moon, you're right, but why give that day to the Hydraean, when Wednesday is…" Gladio traced out _suiyōbi, _where 'sui' was the same character for 'water'. "The Tidemother fits the 'water day', right?"

A bead of sweat crawled down the side of Prompto's face, and he wiped it clean. "They should switch, then? Sun and Moon, Light and Shadow… the Draconian first, with the Stygian right behind him?"

"Then goes Fire, and Water…"

"Then Thunder, Ice, and Earth, and back to Light…" Prompto sighed. "Yeah, the way you put it, it makes more sense. I dunno what I was thinking…"

Gladio reached out and ruffled Prompto's hair, though it wasn't as rough or quick an affair as it was usually. It was a slow and deliberate brush, accompanied with a fond smile. "Don't sell yourself short, kid. It's easy to poke holes in an idea after someone put in all the work to build it at all. As far as I'm concerned, the way you fit the gods into the days of the week is fine by me."

"What… really?"

"Yeah, of course. If the Draconian were awake right now, he probably wouldn't be all that thrilled at having his 'rival', well, _shadowing _him."

"Oh, that joke was bad, you should feel bad."

"Heh. Make me."

"I might. So… say it's true, that Solheim was wiped by a plague, _and_ non-stop daytime ended with it. We still don't know if daemons were around then, but they can't survive in the sun, and as far as we know, people don't go from healthy to plague-ridden, well, overnight. So what came first, the nighttime or the plague?"

"Oh no, don't ask me," Gladio raised his hands like he wanted nothing to do with that question. "Iggy might have a good idea or two about it."

Prompto considered how that would fare. Iggy knew his stuff when it came to the Cosmogony, and his perspective on things was… invaluable. "I'll do that, then. Thanks, Gladio." He stood up and gave his limbs a good stretch, then took his leave.

"No problem," the older man said. He gazed on the retreating figure of his friend, and there was more fondness in his amber eyes than one would expect.

* * *

A bright smile hovered on the blond's mouth at the sight of his solitary friend, sitting at one of the tables along the shoreline. Why would Iggy be on his lonesome over yonder? Was he expecting anyone, or no one at all?

Prompto cleared the distance in quick strides and slid into the empty seat across from Ignis. "I was wondering where you went to. This seat taken?"

"It is now," Ignis said. "I've been here for quite some time, I admit."

"Took yourself out on a date, then? That's love right there."

"Hardly. I believe dates involve candlelit dinners, conversations about our lives and what we do in our spare time… something of that nature?"

"Oh, yeah, mmhmm, not to mention a long walk on the beach. Some time to sit down and watch the sunset… Rent out a room, cuddle up on the couch, watch a movie…"

"Are you stating facts, or future plans?"

"Plans? Me?" The blond's eyes widened in surprise at the question, and caught flecks of sunlight, shimmered the way the sea would. He was picture perfect guilelessness, like the water, he had nothing to hide. Or did he? "Nah, I'm just, y'know, stating some facts. That's how dates go."

Ignis kept his smirk at a cool six on that ten-scale. "In that case, I'll start with what I do in my spare time. I've a penchant for murder mystery novels."

The laugh almost leapt out of Prompto's mouth. He held it back with a hand until his shoulders stilled and his posture relaxed. "No offense, Igs, but I don't imagine that you and whodunits would work out that great. You'd solve the whole thing by page eight or whatever."

"That's an overestimation of my skills, don't you think?"

"No, it's not."

The sincerity in Prompto's statement tugged at something in Ignis, but he kept quiet.

"I know I said this already, but you're good at … everything you do. Everything you _wanna_ do. And, I dunno, it's like, sometimes you _know_ it's true, but then again you don't think so, so it only comes out like a joke. But it's true. You could be doing anything else right now."

Ignis would wonder if the tone of the blond's words had been intentional, that lingering note of _It's a shame you're stuck here, _or if his mind had made it up. But… when else had Prompto said all this?

He cleared his throat and pushed the questions out of mind. "So, what of my deductive skills?"

"I'm saying, you'd figure out who killed who, when, in what room, and with what object."

"And if I don't?"

"It'd be a surprise to me."

"Not knowing _is_ the appeal, believe it or not. It interests me to know what the author knows. More importantly, what information they choose to include or omit in the story to lead the reader to what conclusion they wish before the inevitable plot twist or reveal."

"So you go along for the ride," the blond gave a nod, "but you try to line the pieces up anyway to see if they make sense."

"Exactly."

"I bet that's not all you get out of it. You're a _lot_ like Gladio there."

"Please." Ignis averted his gaze and adjusted his glasses for a second.

"It's true. You're not the kind of guy who wastes time on a book where the guy who wrote it doesn't know what they're talking about. You like knowing if the writer put in work and made it all accurate to reality; it helps you get something out of it."

"Hmm…"

Prompto leaned back in his seat and lazily crossed a leg over the other. "Just sayin', you probably know how to bury a body, get rid of fingerprints and dental records, poison someone and make it look like an accident, all that jazz."

The corner of Ignis's mouth crept up into a knowing half-smile, "I do."

"I _knew_ it."

"Well, don't go around spreading _that_ particular secret. That's the first time I've ever admitted to it."

Whether or not he was serious was difficult to tell, but Prompto liked the idea that he could keep something for himself. But it was a frightening prospect in combination, that Gladio knew how bodies were studied post-mortem and Ignis would know how to throw that study off and hide his tracks. What if they took to working together?

He put the mental image of the Dynamically Deadly Duo to the side. "... Funny, I meant to ask you something."

"My name isn't '_Funny'_, but go on."

"True, you're more the '_Serious'_ kind of guy."

A short, under-the-breath laugh. "What's the question?"

"It was about Angelgard."

Ignis took off his glasses and procured a cloth to wipe the lenses. "Ah… hm, that is more Gladiolus's purview. Why not ask him of it?"

"About that…" Prompto scratched at the back of his head. "Already talked to him. He said to ask you. But you already said you didn't know much about Angelgard the first time around."

"... What of it, then?" Gods, this wasn't helping that running joke of him and Gladiolus being the Mom and Dad of this group, he realized.

"Okay, maybe I should've said it all differently. Wasn't really about the island. I mean, it had to do with it, the stuff about it lead to the question and…"

"Prompto, please, slow down. Take a breath, think of what to say, _then _say it. I'm not going anywhere."

He followed that advice. Shut his eyes and breathed deep. Let it out, slow.

"It was this whole thing about the island being called the Shadow God Island, named after the Stygian. And it was in a new—well, not _new_ new, older than the last version… he read it in another edition of the Cosmogony, is what I'm saying. So he said that the story around here is that the Shadow God created the night time, and it was always sunny in Eos before Solheim was wiped out. I was wondering if the plague made the nighttime happen, and _then_ daemons started coming out since then they wouldn't end up burning in the sun."

Ignis took a while to process all of that, to do with the Stygian. He wasn't part of the Six that they had grown up learning about. "You don't suppose that the Stygian could be an _alternate name_ for the Infernian, given his role in the creation of the plague…?"

Prompto shook his head. "The way Gladio said it, they were different gods."

"And, before the initial onset of the blight, there was sunlight for the whole twenty-four hours of the day?"

"Uh huh…?" His nod lacked the usual vigor. He was sensing a Scientia-style debunk coming in three, two, one…

"Why would we continue to have nighttime after the Founder King's victory over the plague? If it's the existence of plague that caused the night, and the outbreak of illness is a recent phenomenon… you see what I'm getting at."

"Uhm… ?"

"I apologize. It seems I'd gotten carried away. This question can't be answered definitively without understanding just _what _was written of the matter." He looked over to where Gladiolus was, and pulled out his phone. He dialed and hung up after one ring.

As Ignis expected, Gladio checked his phone, and zeroed in on the retainer as soon as he turned to look. Noct was right beside Gladio and did the same, and they both approached from the pier leading to the restaurant.

Somehow, they worked that all out between them, those wordless signals for each others presence that cut through whatever other distraction there was. Prompto envied that a little; if it were him, he'd have just dismissed it as a wrong number or accidental dial.

Noct arrived with a cat caught in his arms, and Gladio with a plate of cooked fish that the feline was feasting on. They took note of the empty table and silently agreed that both cat and plate could be set there.

Gladio offered a quick nod to the one that got his attention. "Something up?"

"In short, yes," Ignis replied. "You'd spoken with Prompto earlier about Angelgard, and 'the Stygian'. I'd hate to think you hadn't enough of the tall tales since the whole 'Empyrean' stunt, but as you'd cited the _Origin of the Stars, _I'd like to read the copy myself."

Gladio blinked, and looked at Prompto, then to Ignis. "Huh? No, I've been…" he motioned over to the pier. "Been with Noct the whole time, trying to take care of the cat. I haven't said anything about the island."

The hushed '_What?_' that came from Prompto didn't escape Ignis's notice. "No, no way," the blond said, with a nervous titter of a laugh. "You were right over there," he waved his hand to the western side of the shore, with the fishing dock and the haven not too far from that. "You might've gone over this way while I wasn't looking, but we definitely talked about it."

Gladio shook his head. "I'm telling you, I was with Noct. Haven't seen you since we stepped out of the car."

Noct was absently petting the cat in the meantime. "I can vouch for him, I was there when he was with me."

That's not what Prompto wanted to hear. Tension caused his fingers to curl and his eyes to narrow, glare focused on the King's Shield. "I get it, play a joke on the newbie. That's how it is with you. You don't get tired of that at all?"

Noct paused mid-motion and withdrew his hand, had to dispel the magic that had started to crackle along his fingers. "I don't know what your problem is, but you're _not _calling him a liar." The edge of ire in his voice was barely suppressed.

"Oh, don't worry, I'm not saying he's lying, I'm saying he's full of shit. There's a difference."

Noct stepped forward. Gladio blocked it. He tried going around. Gladio blocked that too.

"Noct, _settle down_."

"And what, let him talk about you like that?"

"Not a fight worth starting, _trust_ me."

"He already started it," Noct hissed, but he stepped back and put distance between himself and them all—not without taking the cat and the plate with him, though.

Gladio's attention returned to Prompto. He spoke past the set of his jaw, "Let's start this from the top. You said this had to do with Angelgard?"

"Yeah." Prompto's gaze didn't waver, and his voice didn't get any less terse.

"The 'Stygian' fits into that, how?"

"He's the God the island is named after. The place wasn't always called Angelgard, I guess. Has to do with the dark, and the dead. Maybe. Depends on how things are translated."

"What edition of the _Origin _said that?"

"King Callidus."

"Where from?"

"Longwythe."

Gladio ran a hand over his mouth and chin in thought, and hid the murmur of "_Can't make up an entire edition of the Origin of the Stars…_" but he gave a conspicuous nod so that Prompto could see it, and backed away.

Noctis waited until Gladio was close to ask, "The hell got into him?"

Gladio shrugged. "Maybe it's the heat making his blood boil."

Noctis didn't bother to entertain that response. "You don't believe that."

"No, I don't, but I do believe him."

"What?"

"He was too upset about _us _not believing him for this to be some trick he's pulling. He's being _honest_, but he might not be _truthful. _We don't know which of us is right, yet."

"Tch… honest, truthful, right, whatever. He was out of line."

"I know, but you can't let _your_ temper climb just because someone _else_ is upset. Like I said, a couple insults isn't worth starting a fight over."

Noct didn't say anything to that, but his objection was written all over his face. It wasn't what Prompto did, but who he did it _to._ But he'd have to let this slide for the time being and hope it didn't happen again.

From what he could see, Prompto had stood from his seat and left Ignis where he was. Prompto didn't make eye contact with anyone else as he walked away, up the steps and toward the restaurant.

Ignis followed that retreat with his gaze, and once he could no longer see the blond he waited a moment more. Then he stood as well, and approached Noctis and Gladiolus. "None of this makes sense."

Noct huffed. "What, _that's_ your big takeaway?"

Ignis gave him a cross look, then turned to address Gladio instead. "It's a rather circuitous series of events, but he came to me regarding a question to do with Angelgard, because _you _had told him to do so. But the reason he had spoken to you at all was because _I _had already told him I didn't know about the island."

"And…?"

"I hadn't spoken to him at all since we left the car."

"Wait, you too?"

Ignis nodded.

Gladio considered their options to solve this mess. "You mind if we take the car and head to Longwythe?"

"I don't have a choice, do I? Do what you will, but bring it back in one piece. I'll… have a word with him about this."

* * *

Prompto's gaze flickered to his right as soon as he heard footsteps, and he averted it with a turn in the other direction. He brushed his wrist and forearm over the side of his face to wipe it clean, then let his hands fall to his lap and tried to betray nothing of what thoughts ran around in his mind.

He heard Ignis take a breath, and could _almost _hear the gears turning. "Would you mind if I kept you company?"

The blond gestured to the empty seat beside him, "S'a free country." He still didn't look in Ignis's direction.

The seat gave a little under the added weight.

So did his composure. "I…" He sucked in a breath; _hated _how his voice had already started to shake, had to steady himself. "I'm not crazy, am I?"

"... No. You aren't."

"Then, why…?"

"It's unclear why there's a discrepancy between what you experienced and what Gladiolus had done in the same span of time. But, _you _know what you saw and what you heard. No one can tell you opposite."

Prompto let those words stay where they were, and echoed, "I know what I saw."

"Mm. Exactly. Perhaps this is…"

The thought of Ignis trying to solve this so soon caused Prompto to turn his head. "Huh?"

Ignis had silently traced a thumb over his lips in thought, then drew his hand away. "The best that I can think of, with what information that we have is that… it may be a Decoy spell."

"What, like… the ones we use?"

"The very same. The ability for one to duplicate the appearance of another would explain why whoever it was you'd spoken with both looked and sounded like Gladiolus."

Prompto shook his head. "Why would… who would use the King's magic like that? The way we do?"

"The 'why', I don't know. As for who, it would be a tad easier to figure out, though not by much. The Kingsglaive and the senior members of the Crownsguard would be the only groups to have access to such spells. With Gladiolus and I having been Junior Crownsguard since young, there is no shortage of those who would know us well enough to imitate our mannerisms."

A detestably helpless whine escaped the blond, and he felt his eyes prickle and burn again. He rubbed the heels of his palms to his eyes. "Damn it…! I'm… such an idiot!"

"What? No, Prompto, you're _not_." He didn't pry Prompto's hands away. Just a brush of their fingers was enough to make the blond lower them back to his lap.

"And why the hell not?" The words were acrid on Prompto's tongue. "It takes two for a trick, doesn't it? The guy that pulls it off, and the dupe that falls for it."

"It… _yes_," Ignis admitted so with reluctance, "but the entire _aim _of deception is to succeed in it. No one would go in expecting their lie to be caught. And at least, you're safe. Whoever they are, whatever their intent…" he trailed off, knowing that he lacked the words to explain either thing.

But it was fine; he didn't need to have all the answers. Not now. That he was here was enough.

Ignis nodded as if he agreed. A faint smile played on Prompto's lips; he almost thought of it as if the brunet had read his mind. It was entertaining, that thought, until the retainer spoke once more.

"I'm here. Whatever it is you need, I'll provide as best as I can."

_Wait… _"What?"

"Mm? I said that I'm here. For whatever, and however long you need."

Prompto gulped dry, and his heart kicked into second gear. "Isn't it Noct you should be saying that to?"

"Noctis isn't the one in need of reassurance, now is he?" Ignis didn't take his gaze away, and there wasn't so much as a twitch of nervousness like what Prompto had felt was etched onto his own face.

"... No, I guess not. Still…"

"Mm? What is it?"

He looked away, scratched at the back of his head. "What if I'm the problem, and _not_ someone else…?"

"Hmph. There's nothing wrong with you. Why would you say that?"

A quiet laugh. A shrug of the shoulders. "You're only saying that because you're you. But I dunno, I can't help but think about it. About when I was with that weird sorta-not-really-a-daemon thing…"

"Prompto, before you speak any more, allow me to make one thing clear."

"Yeah?"

"Don't feel as if you're obligated to tell me more than you're comfortable with. If you feel you must for your own sake, I will listen, but do not _force_ yourself to speak when you aren't ready. Besides… I'm trying to keep my 'worry basket' half-empty, and can't have you ruining that for me."

_That bastard_. Prompto could almost _hear_ the smirk on those last words, and in turn hoped the other could sense the smile in his. "Trust me, this is something I wanna get off my chest, and I'm doing it for me."

"Good."

The blond smiled, grateful for the space he was given, and the patience it came with. "When I was there, I couldn't use Noct's magic. Not for weapons, not for items. Nothing. But I could still cast. It felt different. It _was _different, I mean…" He showed his lower right arm to Ignis and trailed the fingers of his opposite hand along it, a faint allusion to the 'current' he'd felt. "I could pull the magic right out of the whatever-it-was, and _then_ toss it back at him."

Ignis adjusted his glasses, intrigued. "That dimension bent the rules of reality to give you access to magic _without_ the usual source…?"

"Yeah. And, I'll totally let you be mad that I didn't say this earlier, but the daemon actually kind of... healed me a bunch? Like, whatever test it put on me, I passed it. So outside of me panicking for a bit, everything was cool. And, uh…" he trailed off.

Ignis looked distant. He was _there, _seated before him, but the gloom of his eyes gave the sense that his mind was elsewhere. Far away in both place and time.

"Ignis…?"

The lights came back on. Iggy blinked. "Mm?"

"Sorry, you were… far away, it looked like."

He shook his head. "I'm alright."

"You sure?"

A huff. "Please. I'm here to comfort _you_, not the other way around. What use would there be in a role reversal?"

Prompto gave a light swat to Iggy's shoulder. "Plenty use. You gotta let yourself be taken care of every once in a while, Igs. It'd be a nice change of pace."

"Hm. I'll let you know when I need it, then. But don't expect word of that until fifty years from now, at the very _least_. With that said, I'm not going to be upset that you didn't tell me everything in one sitting last night. As you said before, you're fine. I've no reason to worry."

Prompto beamed from ear to ear. "Thanks, Iggy."

They remained where they were while the waves whispered a watery madrigal. The seconds slipped away, as did what little space remained between them.

Ignis said nothing of the familiar weight that settled onto him when Prompto rested his head on his shoulder, and allowed his own hand to rest atop Prompto's, to let him know he was real, and still would be whenever he awoke.

Caution crept from corner to corner of his mind. He felt the caress of its claws, and listened to its contention. _If they find you two like this, they'll ask questions. _

He closed his eyes and recalled that similar words had left his mouth, years ago. He'd said it in jest, and it was _us _instead of _you two. _He should have expected anything from the one he'd spoken it to, but it still caught him unawares, the verve in those violet-blue eyes and the cockiness in the curl of those lips as the blond answered,

_Let them._

* * *

For the record, if ever there was a situation in which Libertus were drowning or being swept down a river, Crowe was sure she would give him a hand up and get him out of the water. However, there were times, like exactly this one, where if the same situation were to happen and she had the chance, she'd just give him a double-dap and then go on her merry way.

She otherwise liked the guy. She really did. But he _had _to stop claiming that everyone was family, goddammit!

With the Captain, it was funny. He could be blunt whenever stress got to him, and he leveled a harsh punishment for whoever had the brass to blow off one of his direct orders, but somewhere under that bastard coating was a nugget of caring, and from there it was a hop, skip, and a jump to Libertus saying he was 'like a dad'. A single dad in charge of a baker's dozen and a half of demon children that kept jumping from wall to wall in explosions of sparks and ashes, sure. Captain Drautos reluctantly accepted the designation and downed his fifth cup of Ebony coffee that morning, no additives.

But Libertus didn't stop there. To anyone that had ears to listen, Crowe was like a sister to him, which would have been alright to hear save for the frequency he said it in. It made her feel a little bad for him.

Not as bad as the vicarious unease she felt flutter in her stomach at how Libertus addressed Prince Noctis. Guy had it **bad. **They became friends when the Prince rescued Libertus on a patrol that went sideways. They became _best _friends when it was obvious that Noctis's heroic act wasn't a publicity stunt, that was just how he was. He actually gave a damn about Galahd, about the towns of Escavlon and Guinever. He wanted the best for the people in them, especially after the daemon attack that ravaged Caradoc. Then he took a trip out west and got the same style of tattoos that Libertus had, on his fingers and just under his eye and along his ear, and that earned him the '_brother from another mother'_ greeting.

But it didn't stop there. Months ago, the Prince started to let his hair grow long, and refused to shave or cut it as he had before. It took until recently for it to get to an acceptable level for the look he was going for, and by then, Libertus took to greeting him with a bit more distance but a lot more conviction, as '_cousin_'.

Supposedly, Crowe 'just didn't get it'. She hadn't, when she asked how they went from 'brothers' to 'cousins', and the explanation after made her regret asking. It turned out that they each had a parent who bore the same last name as each other. Libertus kept his, and Prince Noctis couldn't do the same for obvious reasons.

On their way to the training grounds, Crowe suffered through yet another mention of the two Glaives' blood relation. She felt a throb at her temple and placed her fingers there to ease it when she asked, "You know just because his mom and your dad have a last name in common doesn't _actually _make you two blood, right?"

"It has to," Libertus protested. "How many other Ostiums do _you_ know?"

He'd done the research to prove it, too. Libertus and Prince Noctis got their Ostium blood through Thalimain and Aurea respectively, and the bloodline was traced up and up until it hit the common ancestor that gave rise to both branches. He learned through some all-nighters chugging down coffee he couldn't stand, and a diagram that took up a whole wall, that his paternal _great-great-_grandfather was also the Prince's maternal _great-_grandfather, making the two of them second cousins once removed.

If only he showed that much dedication to his actual training.

"The Ostium name is rare, yeah, but last names can come from anywhere," Crowe said. "Jobs, adoption, name changes, birthplaces, the husband isn't the baby's dad—"

"Alright, al_right_, I _get_ it. Geez, Crowe. Ever the naysayer."

"_Sooth_sayer, more like. It takes more than a handful of birth certificates to prove you're related!"

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"It means you're not _that_ related." Crowe brushed her hands as if cleaning them of invisible dust.

Noctis laughed and shook his head. "Come on, let my cousin have some fun, will you?"

Libertus's face lit up at the mention of their relation from the Prince himself. "That's _second_ cousin—"

"—once removed, mhmm, I hear ya."

They reached the atrium, where the courtyard grounds were lined with targets for the Glaives to throw their daggers or magic at. The crack of air above them like a gunshot suggested someone had attempted to warp; the sputters of energy, the shadow that grew larger with each second, and the **thud **of a body signaled failure. The soldier still had enough energy in him and bones intact to roll over and hurl sick.

Noctis winced. "Didn't figure it was that hard to do."

Libertus chuckled, "Oh, it is. _I_ still get sick from time to time."

"It may be because of the King's magic." Drautos said expansively. "With his waning health, the connection between him and all of us has grown unstable over time. _But,_" he spotted the way Libertus was going to open his mouth to ask a question, "that doesn't mean we're going to switch to using the Prince's magic. King Regis arranged it to be this way for a reason." Somehow ( yeah, _right_ ) his hand found its way to Prince Noctis's shoulder.

Libertus and Crowe both saw that, and she could make more than just an educated guess that the other Glaive had mentally filed it as further evidence that their Captain was acting _in loco parentis_ to the Prince.

Drautos looked to one onlooker, then the other. "Don't you have training to do?"

As far as they were concerned, they saw nothing and said nothing, and put their attention on what they were there to do. Noctis took that moment to check up on the Glaive that was still lying on the ground, and help him back to his feet.

In the meanwhile, thoughts of suspicion circled above the Captain in leisurely wingbeats, and skimmed its leading edges along his mind.

As irritating as Libertus was with his repeated flaunt of the blood relation between himself and Prince Noctis, he was right. The only thing is, he didn't know how right he was, and it seemed as if there was another that he failed to take into account.

Prince Noctis was one thing, but King Regis had still opted to keep that other child in his court as well: that boy, Akihiko. Regis had claimed him naught but a commoner, taken in after his similarly lowborn parents' passing. There was no shortage of orphans in light of the disasters that struck Lucis as well as daemon attacks, but Drautos would be fooling himself if he thought the King _that_ generous. Even his _own_ 'inclusion' into the royal family came at a benefit to Regis, and it was called _servitude_. Someone to carry the King's magic and act as his Sword, where Cor Leonis ( ill-fated fool that he was ), served as the makeshift Shield. Of course, Clarus Amicitia was the King's Shield in an official sense, but as close as _he _was to the King, the veritable right hand man, he was indispensable. Regis could make a few spare Shields instead to suffer whatever blows he couldn't afford to have Clarus take.

Where did Akihiko fit into this?

The coincidence of his birth and Aurea's passing was too great to ignore and leave as mere coincidence. Drautos _knew _what Aurea looked like. Akihiko grew to resemble her as the years went on, not just any other person, and absolutely not Regis. But it wasn't as if he were also Aurea's second son with the King; that child's grasp on the King's magic was _pathetic. _There was an infamous incident involving his attempt at summoning a phantom weapon and losing consciousness instead? Embarrassing. But he was kept around for a reason.

That other boy that was close to his age was one to wonder about as well. Supposedly he was Akihiko's friend and taken under the King's care at the request of a member of the council. … It couldn't be that simple. The boy must have been more than that. From Drautos's observations, this 'friend' had a more comprehensive grasp on spells, and was even _training _Akihiko on how to use magic to great effect. That level of expertise was only second to Prince Noctis himself, and third to the King in his prime.

That boy certainly _acted _like he wasn't far behind royalty. Carried himself too _highly_ for someone meant to be a commoner's friend, and he wasn't very forthcoming on questions of his origin.

'_You hadn't heard? … I'm loath to think the Captain of the Glaives still lives under the same rock he first crawled out of, but I dare say you're not giving me many options._'

Cheeky little brat. The venomous barbs were too reminiscent of the King. Not to mention those _eyes_. The Prince's eyes were close to Aurea's blue, and Akihiko was the same, but that other child, what was his name, _Ignis_…? Yes, the green of his eyes was closer to the King's hue.

Akihiko and Ignis were grown-up, now, no longer the children they were when he'd first met them. The disparity was still there. Akihiko yet resembled the late Queen consort. His control over magic left much to be desired. Ignis gained a reputation for being infamously _stringent _over who joined the Crownsguard after having earned his own place there, and his origins were _suspect_ to say the least.

The nephew of Auctus Scientia? Funny. There was seldom mention of Auctus having a sibling before Ignis was brought to the Citadel_, _much less a sibling that had a child of their own that could fall under his eventual care. Drautos could attribute that to the councilman being a private person, but even if Auctus had become legal guardian over Ignis, why pawn the child away to a man unrelated?

Unless there _was_ a relation.

What a ghastly thought, though not without merit. Prince Noctis was the mutual child between the royal couple, and that was all well and good. But in time, the King tired of his Queen due to her commoner birth after all, and produced a bastard son with another woman of nobility. Aurea learned of the infidelity and committed one of her own, likely told the King the child was his to give the boy a chance to rule. But the Queen would die, _unexpectedly, _and the King would deny the child's blood in entirety.

Karma doubled back and the evidence of Regis's own affair would come to haunt him a decade or so later, if he could _be _haunted. He denied that child's blood as well, _clearly, _but kept both kids for another purpose. Not from shame, no. The King had less capacity for guilt over his decisions than a common dog would. Besides, he always liked having _spares_ when another's presence served him perfectly where it was.

In a past life, when the war hadn't tallied its victories over his peace of mind, he didn't think the King capable of such willful transgression on this level. But these twenty or so years were much time for him to learn that it wasn't that the King thought himself as being _above _certain acts. He acted as if he were above _punishment _for his acts, and that was a world of difference.

So, Drautos kept that in mind. The sons and daughters of Galahd were just tools for the King. Nothing more.

* * *

Ignis stirred awake in time to spot the vague semblance of a dropship sailing through the sky, likely alighted from the ship carrier near Angelgard. The place was in operation? Interesting…

But when in the world had he even fallen asleep in the first place? He expected that Prompto would, of course, given that water had a sedating effect on him. Yet…

He got his arm from around Prompto's shoulders, then woke him in the usual way.

"... Wha…? What's going on?" The blond looked around muzzily, perhaps emerging from a deep dream.

"You were asleep."

"Oh… oh, no…" He wiped at the corners of his mouth. "M'sorry…"

"Don't be. I caught a bit of rest, myself."

Prompto nodded and let slip a hushed '_Mm, okay_,' before sliding back over to his left and giving them some space again.

He absently wondered what it was that Gladio and Noctis were doing, then tried to get that thought out of mind. Whenever push came to shove, Ignis was the only one here for him, as usual. Those other two couldn't care less when it came right down to it. He didn't need to spare them a thought, just like they weren't thinking about him.

He let his gaze list to his left, and out of lack of anything better to do, he pulled out his phone. There was a push note on the screen for a photo that wasn't backed up. Just one? Of what, the Gighee? He swiped his thumb on the screen. Didn't see why it took so long—

Not the Gighee. Nowhere close. It was _them. _

In the photo, he was practically curled into Ignis's touch, head on his shoulder, right arm lazily draped along Iggy's leg and invading his personal space. With Ignis, there was a stark difference between his usual upright sleep and the sleep in the picture. The brunet was usually so guarded, his head would droop forward and he'd have his arms crossed or left on his lap. Contained to himself, ready for anything in case of emergency. Maybe it's the fact that someone was there, ( someone that needed him, ) that changed his body language. His arm had been draped around Prompto's shoulders ( pulling him close, or keeping him there? ) and his head was tipped in the blond's direction. That draped right arm was kept company; Ignis had placed his own hand above Prompto's, and intertwined their fingers.

By all means, the photo looked peaceful. He would even dare say, cute.

But if he and Ignis were both conked out, who the hell took it?

Cold seeped into his gut. Sharp bells of dread rang **loud **in his head.

"Ig… Ignis…?"

"Mm? What is it?"

Prompto knew what it was, but the words didn't come for him to answer the question like that. He just held the phone out so Iggy could see it.

Ignis looked at the screen for the span of four heartbeats. He gleaned what he needed to from the photo before he asked, "How?"

That was who he was. Didn't focus on the now for long, so much as leaping into the next step, figuring things out.

Prompto liked that about him. "You think, maybe…?"

A shake of the head. "Couldn't be. I watched them leave in the car. We would know if they returned; they wouldn't be all that _subtle _about their finding us."

Ignis could see that Prompto's worry eased up at hearing him, and the edges of it were less sharp, but it was still visible on his face.

_He wants you to _**_do _**_something about it, genius_. This was one of those moments where the retainer had to agree with the thoughts in the back of his mind. Prompto _would _feel better if there were proof that everything was fine instead of just words, so Ignis stood and said, "It'll be best if I check, make sure—"

"Wait." Prompto took hold of his friend's hand to make him pause. "We'll," he started, but stopped to reconsider his wording, "I'm gonna go with you."

"Very well." It made sense. Prompto wouldn't know if Ignis would come back. Or rather, to untrained eyes it would _look _like Ignis returned to his friend, but then the question would be if it was the same Ignis that had left, or if it would be the impersonator. "Stay close to me."

"Don't have to tell me twice."

They crossed the restaurant and down the pier towards the parking station. From what they could see, there wasn't anyone they recognized at the fishing dock, nor at the tables along the beach. The car wasn't where the group last left it, either, or anywhere at all.

"They're still gone," Prompto murmured. "Couldn't have taken the picture, then."

Would that make the impersonator responsible? It was odd, but that would be the most reasonable conclusion than assuming that Noctis and Gladiolus had arrived and found them both asleep, and either person proficiently pilfered the phone from Prompto's pocket, taken the picture, placed it back where it was, and then left again with the car.

The only thing was, it meant that a suspicious stranger had done the exact same thing, and could still potentially be here.

They returned to the bench, and Prompto sat back where he was. Ignis remained standing, hand to his chin in thought.

"The phone was exactly where you last left it, correct?"

"Yeah." Prompto nodded. "I didn't feel anything wrong with it, like it was out of place, I only knew something was up when I looked at the screen."

"Hmm." Whoever had done this had to have done so a specific way that neither of them were disturbed. Physical contact would have outed that person easily; Ignis himself wasn't a deep sleeper, and he doubted this would be an exception. "Would you mind if I tried something?"

"Depends what the 'something' is."

"I'm going to request that you lean to your right, like before."

Prompto covered his mouth with both hands, but it couldn't hide the giddiness that showed in his eyes, and he revealed the smile that went with it after a while. "Dude, you're really gonna do it? Okay, okay…" He leaned over in a close approximation of the way he had before, though it was a little harder to do without there being an actual body there to support him. "Like this?"

"That's perfect."

Ignis immediately ruled out the option of the stranger having taken the phone from behind; there wasn't enough space for a person to reasonably fit in behind the bench. So then, it was done while facing them.

How close could they have stood? Not too close, or risk a bump of the legs or feet. They could lean forward just enough, reach an arm out, take hold of the phone…

"Maybe not that angle," Prompto suggested. "You're pulling on the pocket a little. Lean more towards me, okay? Gotta go with the grain, take the path of least resistance and all."

"Hm, alright then. … Wait, how do _you _know how to pickpocket?"

They were close enough that Prompto could see his friend's accusing gaze. "Mmm, no reason," he lied.

"Is that how you kept slipping your notes into my messenger bag?"

"I plead the Fifth?"

"You _take _the Fifth, not plead it."

"Same difference."

"Not to me."

"Change of subject?"

"No need." Ignis stepped away. "I have your phone."

Prompto blinked, then looked at his own empty pocket. "... You distracted me so I didn't even feel it."

"Another way to get the job done, though I'm more a fan of the '_clumsy_' act." He didn't need to wink physically; Prompto could hear it in his tone.

At that, the blond chuckled. "You're a dick."

"Takes one to know one."

The smile on Prompto's face was worth taking a picture of, and that's exactly what Ignis did. It helped that it gave him a point of comparison; with the second picture measured against the first, he could determine how far away their secret photographer had been when capturing them both in the shot. It was more or less the same. Maybe a step further back, at best.

Then it was a matter of putting the phone back in its place. He didn't want to think about how close that stranger had to have gotten to Prompto to even try that. And because he didn't want to, he wouldn't. It was ( not ) that simple.

The last step was avoided, with Prompto extending a hand. The phone went back to its rightful owner, and Prompto looked at the picture himself. He did so in silence, switched to the previous picture and did the same, and the smile faded the longer the silence went on. He took a breath just short of audible, and looked up from the screen. "It wasn't really you, was it? The guy I talked to, before I went to Gladio?"

Ignis couldn't maintain eye contact for long, his conscience wouldn't let him.

Prompto let out a short and empty laugh. "You must've been so confused..."

"I'm sorry," was all Ignis could manage to say.

"Don't apologize for that. If it's not my fault that I fell for the trick, it's not yours that they tried it. Come on, man, be consistent." A laugh a smidgen warmer had trailed after the words.

Ignis wasn't convinced. "I should have clarified instead of going along with it."

"You're saying that now, but I would've just gotten pissed. You saw how I was. It's fine now. It's not like," Prompto paused and scratched at the back of his head. "Not like he asked me about anything super compromising. He just told me about the dropship carrier. What the Empire needed it for. How he wanted the war to be over. The most he got from me is..." his gaze lowered down to the screen again.

Ignis could guess at the rest of that. The impersonator had gotten enough hint of how comfortable they could be around each other to take the picture in the first place. But they could have taken it with their own phone and never left it for either of the two to find out it had been taken at all, so why didn't that person do _that?_

Whatever look fell upon his face, Prompto noticed it and exactly what it meant. "Don't overthink it, Iggy. Trying to keep your 'worry basket' half-empty, remember? If all they did was take a picture and teach me a bunch of things then we're fine. I'm fine."

He could say that, but it still _ached _that Ignis couldn't do more about this. How many times could Prompto insist that he was alright, just to not inconvenience anyone else?

An alert on the phone brought him out of that line of questions. Two photos, the recent ones, with an additional text to _Keep them. _Prompto gave him a nod and mouthed, _It's okay_.

He had no choice but to believe that. He put the photos away in the protected folder.

"I figure you'd enjoy those more than I would. Especially that _second_ picture."

What made him say that? Ignis's intrigued hum wasn't entirely feigned. "It sounds as if you're insinuating something."

"Insinuating? Pretty big word there, but I'm making more of an educated guess. Something about how you took that pic," the blond said, giving Ignis a once-over.

Ignis crossed his arms and let his face betray nothing. "Oh? And how _did _I take the picture? As far as I know, it's as simple as pointing and clicking. What did I do that was out of the ordinary?"

Prompto looked to either side of him as if to check for any eavesdroppers before turning his gaze back on the culprit of unknown crime and tucking his phone away. "You made me look… _coquettish._"

He was one to talk about 'big words'. "_Made_ you?" Ignis put on a look of mock offense. "You got that way all on your own."

"Lies and slander. I'm not that kind of guy." Prompto turned his nose up, mirrored the cross of his arms to match his friend, and then crossed one leg over the other.

"My sincerest apologies, then," Ignis uncrossed his arms to make a 'settle down' gesture with his hand. "You're not that type. You're _much _worse."

"Is that so?" The sly grin fit well on Prompto's face. _Too _well. He got back on his red-soled boots and sauntered up until he and Ignis were almost nose-to-nose. "You think you're right, don't you?"

"Think? I _know _I'm right. The real question is, what will _you_ do about it?"

Prompto shot him a narrow glare and jutted his chin as if daring him to try anything. "I'll ... say we should take this someplace else."

Intrigue flashed in Ignis's eyes, or perhaps that was just the glint on his glasses. "Where?"

"Someplace with a lot more space and a lot less people. And then? I'll show you how bad I can _really _get."

Ignis couldn't bring himself to say it aloud, but he wondered just how in each of the Six's names Prompto could just _do _that. Worry as he might for the blond's well-being, it took only some words and a well-timed tilt of the head, a quirk of his lips or a bat of his lashes, and it's as if he took whatever was bothering the brunet and crushed it into a paper ball and tossed the ball into a wastebasket and kicked the basket into a chasm gods-knew-how-deep.

The only conclusion he could come to was that Prompto was already a devil. The most tempting and devious ones didn't look the part, he knew this for a fact, and he knew as well that this particular one could always find a way to lure him, dare say already had him hooked, strung up and dancing to his tune. He didn't care. He went with it so easily, for this was so much better than… it was just _better._ _Anything _was better, if it took his mind away from the situation he found himself in, even if for a moment.

He wondered what they could get up to if it weren't for the oath he'd taken… though to say he 'took' it would be generous.

That musing was put on hold; he caught an approach from afar and clued Prompto in on it by signing '_Them_' with a hand.

Like on cue, Prompto put on the most aggrieved pout ever and turned on his heels in time to give Gladio and Noctis a good view of it when they were at the top of the stairs that led to the lower benches and pier. Prompto took a couple of steps and put distance between himself and Ignis. "It's terrible, you two. _He's _terrible!"

As soon Gladio caught sight of the look and heard the complaint, he raised an eyebrow like he would tire of the answer to his question before either answer or question left anyone's mouth. "Alright, what'd you two start bickering about this time?"

"The nerve of this guy, getting on my case about my hair!" Prompto pointed with his whole arm at Ignis, and sniffled audibly like he was close to tears. "Does he ever get on you guys about your hair?"

"Can't say he's had anything to say to me about mine," Noct said.

"You could give me an entire week to list all the issues about the way _you _style your hair and I _still_ wouldn't be finished," Ignis said.

"Ouch. Breaking my heart, here." Noct made a vague gesture towards his chest, not even bothering to tap his knuckles over his heart.

"This is about hair," Gladio reiterated, to make certain that he'd be correct to mentally check out of the conversation.

"Mmhmm!" Prompto nodded and put on his best puppy eyes. "Iggy's just jealous, I know he is! He's jealous because my hair's softer, and—"

"You dare call me _jealous?_" Ignis scoffed. "What have I to envy about hair that's styled like a chocobo's rear end?"

A gasp. Prompto whirled around and closed the distance again to jab his finger at Iggy's chest in offense. "You did not just say that."

"I did." The self-satisfied look rested at a comfortable eight-point-five.

"My hair does _not_ look like a chocobo butt!"

"It does so."

"I can't _believe_ I'm hearing that from a guy who looks like a _cockatiel!_"

From eight-point-five to zero in record time. "... How _dare _you."

"Prompto, gonna need you for something important," Gladio cut in. This would only get worse if they were allowed to go on.

"Oh, okay…" While the others couldn't see his face, Prompto let a genuine frown form, and mouthed '_I'm sorry_'.

Ignis shook his head to signify _'Don't_ _be_', but mouthed, '_I'll get you for that_'.

Prompto parted from Ignis's company and went over to Gladio. Noct already knew what Gladio was calling the blond over for, so he put some distance between them to go over to Ignis's side instead.

The question Prompto had as to what that 'something important' was, was just at the edge of leaving his mouth, but he caught note of something in Gladio's hands. "Is that…?"

A nod. "It's the one. _Origin of the Stars, _King Callidus edition. And…" He opened the book to where he left off in a quick skim, and showed the passage that mentioned the supposed Shadow God. The term '_Stygius'_ was visible on the page.

Prompto took a sudden interest on the boards beneath his feet, and wished he hadn't spared even a second entertaining the notion that Gladio hadn't cared, or wasn't thinking of him at all. That he wanted to clear this up proved opposite. "Yeah, that's exactly the part I saw," he murmured.

Gladio offered that Prompto take the book for himself. "The good news is, you're not making up things that don't exist."

"But…? I feel like there's a but somewhere." Prompto held the book close.

"The bad news is, we still don't know why you saw what you did. We still didn't talk to each other then, so the closest thing I can think of would be that you, I dunno, got a vision of me showing you something before it even happened."

"You're saying, I saw the… future?"

"Something like that. The time travel route wouldn't make much sense. What else happened around the time Not-Me was talking to you?"

"Well, I just finished talking to Iggy, I had a question I wanted to ask, I found you out on the dock, Noctis wasn't with you, and…" Prompto looked around. It wasn't the same exact dock, sure, but he was with Gladio, just finished talking to Ignis, and Noctis was elsewhere, even if 'elsewhere' was a couple of meters away.

"Of course the placement is different, but it all happened somehow. Only problem is… hmmm…" Gladio took a few seconds for thought, "I really only found the book and showed it to you because you _told _me that I had it and showed it to you. So it's a… self-fulfilling prophecy?"

"Or a stable time loop?"

"That's the same thing, to be honest."

( While the two had a casual conversation concerning causality, Ignis ran his fingers through his hair. "Noct? I have a question to ask."

"And I've got an answer."

"Does my hair truly make me look like a cockatiel?"

Noct gave him a diffident smile, "I'd say more of a... cardinal?"

He hadn't expected Ignis to look up a picture of it on the spot. He _should have _but he didn't, and what the retainer found under the search results made him cast a look at the prince that could best be described as '_You have got to be kidding me,_' but with more colorful wording.

Noct couldn't look any more sheepish if he'd sprouted wool and started bleating right then and there. )

"Well, whatever," Gladio said, "must be one of those times four minds are better than two." He whistled to get the attention of the remaining two in their group, and waited for them to get within earshot before he continued the conversation, though he saw that Ignis was absently touching his own hair. "... That comment really got to you, huh?"

"No, what are you talking about? Something like that, affecting _me?_ Of course not. What do you take me for? I'm _perfectly_ fine."

That reply was not entirely convincing to anyone with ears.

"Okay, take your mind off that for a moment. I'm thinking Prompto got some weird future-sight thing going on. Any other ideas?"

"Precognition? I had come to the conclusion that a Decoy spell was involved, but we can't discount the possibility of him gaining precognitive gifts as a form of magic."

Noct didn't look thrilled at Ignis's supposition. "Someone using Decoy means they'd be a Kingsglaive or a Crownsguard that could use it. Who'd fit the bill? _Cor?_"

Ignis shook his head. "Never known the Marshal to have a sense of humor."

Prompto flashed a bit of teeth at the thought of how hard Cor had laughed when he found that the aspiring recruit 'didn't know and didn't care' who the Prince of Lucis was. He hid it behind the King Callidus book, and not-quite-pretended to have an interest in the text.

Gladio hooked his finger around the top spine of the book and pulled it down to get a good look at him. "You mind? I'm gonna ask what happened when you went under."

"Wha…?" Prompto blinked. "The daemon butterfly thing again? Nothing. I mean… not much. Like I said, it was a weird place. Really gloomy."

"You don't feel any different?"

"No, I don't."

"You sure? Pretending you're fine when you're not isn't gonna help."

"I'm _not_ pretending."

Ignis stepped in and placed a hand on Gladio's shoulder. "You're taking the wrong approach to this. Even if there lies the possibility he may have repressed something, some memory of being there… if it exists, he must remember it on his _own_, when he is _ready_. Do not push this."

Gladio faltered and stepped back. "... I won't. I'm just… worried."

"I know."

Prompto lifted the book up to cover his face again, and read the details of the origins of the world, including the Stygian. It was just as Not-Gladio had said, with the hidden god introducing nightfall to Eos, and setting the endless cycle of night and day. As it went on, it evened out into the version most people were familiar with, with the plague, the eventual Founder King. Though it read like Somnus had the trappings of a king even _before_ his official coronation; this iteration said he was gifted by the gods not only the Ring of Radiant Light, but that he traveled the known world with a Scepter with a Precious Stone, a Shield of Sable Blossoms, and a Sword of Starlight.

There was a significant figure missing from the plot the way he knew it. _Holy crapbaskets, did Stella just get Etro'd?_

"Iggy, you said you wanted to read this, right?" He passed the book over, and Ignis read over the questionable iteration of the text.

As expected, Ignis was caught up on the same thing Prompto was. "How does a text omit a lineage that obviously exists? And does this suggest that Somnus wielded a Shield? The only known use of a Shield on record belonged to the Merciful King, and that King of Lucis hadn't even…"

"Yeah, that does sound _odd_."

Ignis shot Prompto such a sideways glance it was a miracle that his glasses hadn't fallen off.

Prompto still took no responsibility for the puns that would come out of his mouth.

Gladio took a second to contemplate the rest of his existence if it meant having to hang around these two, and figured the entertainment was worth it. "It'd be easy to write all that off—" oh god even _he _was making puns— "like they were authored by some other person and then credited to a 'canon' writer by imitating their style…"

"Pseudepigraphical works," Ignis muttered absently.

Six above, that was just a _reflex_ for him, wasn't it? "Yeah, what you said. It'd be easy to say these are… _pseudepigraphical,_" ( Ignis gave him a thumbs up for the successful attempt ) "but we can't tell whether it's true or false unless we know what the truth is. No mention of a Fleuret is easy to figure out, but the Shield part is… a bit 'wiggly', out of lack of better words."

"What's 'wiggly' about it?" Prompto leaned in to take a quick glance at the pages to see if something there hinted at what would come next, but found nothing and focused his attention once more on Gladio.

A shudder of a table, the shatter of glass and ceramic interrupted any explanation. They all turned to the source of the noise and headed up the steps to check on what had happened.

The broken bowl and drinking cups were ignored by most everyone; the tray that once held those things were set on the nearest table but its waiter had abandoned them, and the patrons had abandoned their seats in favor of the radio. They were huddled as closely as possible to the device and an unnatural hush fell over them like a pall.

The four got close enough to catch the words that had come out of the radio,

"… _can't believe I'm saying this, folks… every single,_" a space there for a gulp and an unsteady breath, "_it seems_ _every single child in the Crown City of Insomnia is… they've gone. They've up and vanished …_"


	7. Faith

**Author's Note:** Re: Guest reviewer: Thank _you, _and all other readers, for devoting the time that you do into reading this fic. That you all tune in consistently whenever I update with another long read is very much appreciated.

Note, there's a break in the text that is entirely intentional. You'll know when you see it.

* * *

**Chapter 7: Faith**

The news anchor continued to deliver word of what had happened with as steady a voice as possible, but the magnitude of the event struck enough of a chord that other newscasters could be heard offering consolation. What he said hadn't changed, no less muted the cries that could be heard in the background as parents still called out for their missing sons and daughters, and elder siblings called out for their younger ones.

Hushed whispers carried through the restaurant,

"_Is that a sign from the gods?"_

_"Punishment for siding with the Nifs? You mean like that?"_

"_All of those kids…"_

"_Is the peace treaty off, then?"_

"_Can't be; if Insomnia called it off, that'd sound like they blame Niflheim for this."_

"_What if they _are _responsible?"_

Gladio broke away from the others and left in the direction of the parking station. He dialed his sister's number while the chatter was going on. The phone rang once, twice, then—the lightning flash of relief at hearing Iris's voice was snuffed as quickly as it'd come, and familiarity settled in at recognition of her voicemail message. _Damn it, she's not there… _He waited for the tone.

"Iris? It's me. Call me as soon as you get this, alright? I," he took a breath and ran his hand over his face, "... just call back."

From the looks of it, the others noticed he was absent and took their leave of the crowd as well. Noct mouthed, _Iris? _But Gladio averted his gaze and didn't respond. He couldn't imply it. Didn't even want to _think _of it. Try as he might to avoid the thought, however, it snuck around in his mind and insisted that he acknowledge it.

So, it was possible. Not _definitive_, but _possible_, that Iris was included in the disappeared. Luna advised that he call Iris in her letter, but he hadn't done so earlier on, and hadn't thought it was that urgent. Maybe she'd had an idea this would happen? No, that didn't sound right… that she knew about this was a _hell _of a stretch. He was connecting things that didn't exist. She wrote from the point of view of a concerned little sister, that's all. Something she and Iris had in common.

Then again, if Ravus was informing her of things in advance, so that she could warn them all as she had with Noctis, it would… no, never mind, same problem. How would _he _know of any mass disappearances? How would anyone be able to pull that off? None of this sounded normal. People didn't just vanish in a blink, and that's what this was reported like. Not a kidnapping, or transport, no visible fleet of ships had left the Crown City, not even an on-ground procession. They'd have _noticed _that… right? It wasn't like it could be likened to the Saxham incident, either. Daemons were at fault for that, and daemons couldn't exist in Insomnia, so…

Someone whistled and waved their fingers in front of his face, then leaned in to his view. Prompto, of course: it was something he'd do. Probably wanted to know if he was alright.

Was he, or wasn't he? Could he even say? To tell them all what he thought held the chance that their trip would be side-tracked, and he couldn't do that to Noctis. Luna was in Altissia, and Noct wanted to meet her in person. If she had answers, that'd serve them better than going back to Insomnia where everyone was likely asking each other the same questions. Besides, maybe Iris was training, or with their dad. If it was a problem, even _he'd _be motivated to call Gladio and tell him the news, right?

"I'm fine," he said. "She didn't pick up for now, that's all."

Prompto gave it some thought. "I get that." He sounded hesitant about something, and he lowered his gaze. Whatever was going on in his mind had settled seconds later; he took Gladio's hand in his and their gazes met again. He gave Gladio a nod that suggested he was as sure of anything as he'd ever be. "Iris is okay. She could be busy and put the phone away someplace safe. She'll answer back later."

"What, you look into the future to tell me that?"

"Nah, I've got a feeling, that's all."

Gladio managed a faint smile. "Thanks."

Prompto may have been an absolute shit sometimes, but there was something about him. He couldn't be pinned down with just one mood, but he could be trusted to put some issues to the side whenever he saw something he deemed more important going on. He could be counted on to try and help someone if he could, whether he knew them or not.

Now, if only Noctis could take Prompto's insults a _little_ less seriously, that'd be great. Not dismiss Prompto's attitudes entirely, no, but there was only so many times Gladio could tell Noct that some people incited anger as a means of control. It was the weapon of choice for people that already felt hurt, and Prompto was that type—for as long as it took for it to fizzle out, or for someone to cut through that and get him to settle down, anyway. It was best to step back and give him space to settle himself, or let that someone do their job, and it couldn't be the same person that caused the hurt in the first place or was being pulled around by the resulting lash-out.

Weird as hell, though, now that he thought about it. Aside from one time, whenever Prompto had something to say to Noct's face, Noct usually took it on the chin like a champ. He only got riled up when other people were brought into it, even if _they_ weren't bothered.

He wasn't a hundred percent sure about that 'one time', though. Only that way back, Noct got way too interested in working out his arms, and consequently sprained them from overdoing his strength training and forgoing any rest days. He earned a lecture for all that trouble, but instead of the teary-eyed sniffles that Gladio had expected, he instead got a tight-lipped and reluctant admission that it was because '_some kid at school said I had skinny twig arms'_. Gladio never got _official _word it was Prompto that said it, but he had a really, _really _good suspicion that it was Prompto that said it. What'd Noct do to earn that, though, try to lift him up?

Whatever, they were both weird. Maybe they were more alike to each other than either one would admit. Heheh. _That_'d be funny.

But right now, he saw Prompto check his phone for whatever alert caught his attention. "Guys, there's something over at Wiz's!"

"Huh? What's going on over there?" Noct leaned in for a look at Prompto's phone while the other likely texted that exact question back.

"A Gighee sighting was all they said."

"What, that thing? But it's harmless."

"Yeah, but something doesn't feel right about it…" Prompto put his phone away, suggesting there was no response from the other end yet. "I mean, how many people over at Wiz's are 'great kings' and 'chosen ones' to see it, including the old man?"

"Point taken. To the Post, then."

A thought must have popped up in Prompto's head that gave him pause and made him look incredibly pensive, "Wait, so if we go check this out, then doesn't that mean we're…"

( Ignis saw where this was headed, and mouthed '_Prompto, don't,_' but braced himself— )

"... Gettin' Gighee With It?"

Ignis managed to keep his reaction restrained to a deep sigh and the introduction of his palm to his face at the pun, while Noctis and Gladio groaned in annoyance, give or take a roll of the eyes.

"I'm disowning you as a friend, Prompto," Noct said.

"Not if I quit being your friend first. Besides, I'm too useful to the team, so I'll still stick around even when you do disown me, and you know it."

"Yeah, you will, and I know."

Gladio had to wonder if either or both of them were powered by spite.

All four of them got into the car and drove out of Galdin. It was safe to leave for now; the ferry from Altissia would be available the day after tomorrow, at the soonest, so they wouldn't miss anything.

Prompto checked his phone's screen on the way there, but got no answer yet to speak of. "Wonder what made the Gighee show up again…" he mused.

"That remains to be seen," Ignis said.

Gladio checked for any word from Iris, but there was nothing, not even a text. It was still bright out, so he could hold off on the worry. She'd respond later.

Prompto shifted in his seat. "Hey, um… about the treaty signing…"

"Mm? What about it?" It wasn't quite an out-of-nowhere topic considering the upcoming event, but he wondered what Prompto was curious about this time.

"Who's gonna… y'know, _be_ there? King Regis is a no-brainer, same with the Emperor…"

"His son would likely attend as well, as would the Chancellor," Ignis suggested.

"Luna can't make it, so Ravus is gonna be there in her place," Noct said. His decoy's presence went without saying.

"My dad's gotta be right next to the King, obviously," Gladio said.

Prompto tapped his lips in thought. "How about the Kingsglaive? The Captain at least, right?"

"Perhaps. However, he and the Glaives could easily be assigned to manage the crowds for the event, as would the Crownsguard." Ignis made that sound like it could be one way or the other, and both options met his indifference.

"Where would the Marshal be, then? Important enough that he got his own title, he'd be sitting there for the whole thing, right?"

"Mm, not quite." Gladio shook his head in the negative. "Cor's the Captain of the Crownsguard and he may be called 'the Immortal', but he still answers to my dad. So wherever the King wants him, that's where my dad will tell him to be. He might not get involved in that treaty business at all."

"Might be assigned to something more important," Prompto hinted.

Gladio caught the blond's sideways smile in the side mirror, and found himself almost matching that expression. Prompto was really something.

"Perhaps it's wise for the Marshal to be absent from the proceedings," Ignis said. "Wouldn't want the Empire to take that as an affront."

"Huh? What would they get all uppity and offended about?"

"The particular moniker."

"What, the Immortal?"

"Pff, yeah," Gladio said. "Man, with everything about the war, this is schoolyard drama in comparison. Tell him, Iggy."

"The short version of it is that Niflheim had their Immortal first in the form of their Imperial General Glauca, and considers Lucis copycats."

"... That _is _schoolyard drama. What's wrong with two people having the same title?"

"As far as Niflheim is concerned, Glauca has the record to prove it. In the briefings I've been privy to detailing the General's numerous victories and military prowess, one detail unquestioned by the Crownsguard, the Royal Council, and even the King himself, is that Glauca has been serving the Empire for around two-hundred-and-fifty years."

Nothing more was said in the span of a few heartbeats, as the implication settled in. Then a short huff of a laugh chased the silence out, and Prompto followed up with a shake of his head. "That's a good one."

"Is it? You're doubting him?" Gladio asked, amused.

"Yeah. I mean, not _doubting _him, but," Prompto turned around to look at Gladio directly, "what do _you_ think?"

"My opinion? No one's ever heard Glauca talk, or seen 'em outside of the armor. It could be an _honest_ fact, say, there's always been _a _Glauca to serve the Empire for hundreds of years, but it's not the same person, it's not _the _Glauca. Could be a legacy thing, and that they're straight-up immortal is just to hype 'em up. Anyone can wear a suit and fight in it and stay quiet while it's on."

Prompto gave it a bit of thought. "That's true. Come to think about it, is Glauca a first name or last name?"

Gladio shrugged. "I dunno. The Imperial General's only got one name. Almost celebrity-like. Iggy, what's your idea?"

"Mm? I believe the conclusion of multiple people donning the armor is… reasonable, at least. It doesn't take into account other possibilities given what _certain individuals_ are capable of and the events surrounding the claim, however."

Gladio leaned closer in his seat. This was gonna be a good one. "Do tell."

"Very well. The very first mention of Glauca has been dated back to the year 501 in the Modern Era. That was the same year that the Kingdom of Tenebrae under Queen Delacier was finally annexed by the Empire. The Empire attempted a takeover in the year 358, but the Tenebraean military under the leadership of Queen Alectoria held them back successfully."

Gladio whistled, impressed at the recall of information.

Prompto tilted his head, curious. "So, what changed?"

"That is unclear," Ignis replied. "What we know is that when Tenebrae was finally brought into the fold, Queen Delacier had to disband the military as a consequence. Then the Empire had its General. That also marks the last time that the Priestesses were allowed regular travel to Lucis to restore the Havens. Her Haven is west of the Maidenwater, and the Pious's tomb is just to the north of that, as a fun fact. The Rogue's tomb and Queen Alectoria's Haven are also near each other."

"Huh… so, wait, hold up," Prompto leaned close to Ignis, hovering just a hairsbreadth from his personal bubble and just outside of elbowing range, "You're saying that when the queen had to get rid of her army, you think… the long life and super tactical whatever that Glauca's got, the whole reason why it reads like he just sprouted up in the history books out of nowhere, is because he's a _Messenger_ and not a normal soldier that worked his way up?"

"Those are your words, not mine." Maybe there was a faint note of pride in there that Prompto had caught on. "But it is odd that there's no mention of Glauca having a rank before General; the Empire wouldn't be shy of praising a human whose genius turned the tide of that battle and resulted in their promotion. They do that with their Minister of Research."

"The High Commander of a bunch of robots is a magically-powered walking suit of armor." Prompto scratched his head in thought. "That… is weird. And maybe a little awesome. Awesomely weird? It fits, though. It might even be what the Magiteks are based on in the _first_ place? The Nifs get a Priestess to make a humanoid suit that doesn't need to eat or sleep, they figure, '_Hey, we could make some of our own_', and that's how that whole thing could've gone down, right?"

"Mm-hmm. Again, that's more or less a _potential _answer as to Glauca's true identity. It would account for the sparse records, as well as the general's longevity and power. Messengers being 'minor gods', and all. It's even said that Glauca engaged in battle with former Kings of Lucis when the war was at its most tumultuous, and fought them to a stalemate. The War King is among those."

"But then, Ravus being _Deputy_ High Commander, he reports to his many-times-great grandma's… creation?"

"It would mean that, yes. Gods only know what he thinks of it."

"Either he respects it, or doesn't like taking orders from a glorified wind-up toy, if it even _gives_ orders. Maybe it just grunts and gestures."

The short crackle of a laugh suggested that Ignis tried and failed to keep away that mental image.

Prompto was still curious of things, so he continued, "Hmmm… but what if the queen made General Glauca for her _own_ army and the Nifs took it as a prize for winning? Or, did they make her create it after the loss, to prove that Tenebrae would stay on their side and be useful?"

"That's something that historical records _don't_ have an account of. It would make sense that a Messenger would be created as a last resort when the skirmish tipped further in Niflheim's favor, though it would also make sense for the Empire to want a show of fealty."

"Either way, that's… pretty cruel."

"War tends to be that way."

Silence fell over the conversation after that, lasted there for some time, but Gladio didn't allow the somber mood to get _too _comfortable where it was. "I'm still betting on it being a bunch of guys in a suit, by the way."

Ignis chuckled, while Prompto cried, "Oh, that's just stubborn!"

Gladio shrugged. "What point is an argument if I change my mind as soon as someone raises up a different point? Iggy's got a good idea, you've got one same as his, I've got one different. But we haven't been proven wrong _yet._"

"We need a tiebreaker then. Noct?"

Noctis had remained quiet the whole time, much to everyone's surprise, and attentive of the back and forth. Gladio would have almost thought he was taking a nap if it wasn't for the intent gaze.

"He was there," was all Noct said at first.

"Hm?" Prompto turned his gaze to the rear-view mirror to look at Noct.

"The Imperial General. He was there, during the whole Fenestella thing. He charged in with the Magitek troops and…" he took a deep breath and a second or two to find his words, "some _version _of him was there, anyway. Dad stuck a sword into the armor and it came out the other side. If there _was _a person there, then that guy's dead as hell. But a Messenger might've survived it, I don't know."

"So, we're still tied."

"Yup. Still tied." Noct gave a single nod to that.

"You know what, then? I'm willing to bet on it for _real_." Prompto slapped the armrest on the door for emphasis. "I'd bet the rest of my reward money that Glauca is a Messenger. You up for it, Gladio?"

"No thanks. I'm not much of a gambling man, that was just a figure of speech earlier is all," Gladio said, and leaned back in his seat.

( Ignis silently counted down: _three, two, one_… )

"But uh… how much is that, again?"

"I've got about four grand left," Prompto replied.

"You're on."

( Ignis shook his head; such a predictable Shield. )

They arrived at Wiz's Chocobo Post, and it didn't take long to see what the problem was, or hear it.

If Gladio didn't know any better, he would have said they were witness to an elaborate art piece that took considerable gil and man-hours to implement. There were stone facsimiles of real people strewn about the grounds; some seated, others standing, and a few more yet were caught in mid-motion. They all held confusion or mild shock etched on their faces.

But these were no copies. The chocobos in the stables were too distressed for that; they flapped their wings and paced in their stalls, intent on fleeing from whatever danger had gone through in the event that it came back.

The people were real, but whatever had crossed the chocobo post had turned every last one of them to statues.

Prompto went to the stables to ease the agitated birds, quick to see where he was needed. He approached slowly, presented his open palms to them and whistled out a song that dipped and coiled smoothly into each note and was good at snaring the birds' attention. He got to one he saw that needed soothing the most; the one fluffing up her feathers and extending her wings to make herself bigger than she already was, though she was already a head-and-a-half taller than the blond. He wasn't intimidated by the display, but neither was she by him; as soon as he was close, he found himself pulled over the railing and into a feathery embrace.

"Hey, hey! I can't see!" He half-heartedly flailed for some seconds, but gave up his struggle quickly and let the chocobo cuddle him. "Spoiler alert, you guys, I think Tina's super upset and needs hugs."

That was his name for the chocobo since way back when they first came to the post, and considering how affectionate Tina was towards Prompto afterward, it looked like she appreciated being named like a person and not the common appellation of Choco-something-or-other. For now it seemed she was content to cuddle him, shield him from the unseen danger, and treat him like a nestling that had returned home, complete with an attempt to preen his 'feathers', though she did it all with her eyes closed.

Gladio gave them a minute and checked the ground for what could have made its way around the area. There was something that drew his curiosity enough for him to crouch low and take a closer inspection.

These were hoof marks. They were one-toed and flat and formed an unbroken shape on the ground. Alongside them were… footprints? They were kid-sized, and the softness around the edges of each print suggested socks or slippers.

He followed the tracks and wondered what the connection was. The radio on the counter of the shop was still rattling out the news ( "... _proceedings have been pushed forward_… _the signing will take place at the earliest convenience…_" ) while he trailed which way the prints were leading to. There were points where the hooves pressed further into the ground —he'd assume the Gighee had stayed in place during those moments. The child-sized footprints meandered more in comparison, and from what he observed, some routes meant that the kid skirted around people or under tables before meeting back up with the Gighee.

Was the kid being chased _by_ the Gighee, or chasing it? What was the order of events? There wasn't a point where the tracks overlapped each other to suggest an order of when they were made, and that would've helped. And it was even more confusing; at some point the Gighee's _own_ tracks layered over each other like it had stopped, then bucked and thrashed around. What happened there?

He wasn't alone in his study. While he kept his eyes on the ground, Ignis had scanned things more at eye level, walked around the petrified patrons to determine _something _of note. Maybe if there was anything in common between all of them?

"Find anything?"

"Not yet. Not sure if I have," Ignis admitted.

"If it helps any, it's definitely the Gighee we're supposed to be after," Noct said. He held a phone in his hand that wasn't his, and made his way over to them in slow, outstretched steps that avoided the Gighee tracks and child's tracks. Ignis watched him with a glint of curiosity but said nothing. He waited until Noct closed the distance and showed them a message in progress on the screen. The text had been halted mid-type by a button held down for too long, and the screen waited for someone to confirm just what version of a letter was meant to be typed there. There wasn't much to read of it, otherwise.

Prompto had gotten out from Tina's grasp; he'd succeeded in calming her down as well as her friends. Gladio was tempted to ask if he'd gotten any information from them, as if the blond could actually hold a conversation with the feathery steeds, but he'd probably surprise them all and say he did. Thinking about it honestly, Gladio wouldn't doubt that for a second. Chocobos were pretty intelligent creatures; the reason the 'chocobo theme song' had caught on with people so well was because the birds showed their approval by dancing to it, for instance.

But that was just a digression. They were here for the Gighee, and to figure out what happened to the people.

Prompto wandered to them with his eyes trained on the ground too, with a pointed effort to avoid a look elsewhere while he followed the hooves and the sock-slippers and their diverging paths and made sure not to disturb either set of tracks. He stopped when Gladio's shoes were within sight, and he could cast his gaze on someone that could reliably move. "Should we head to the haven? That's where we saw it the first time around. I mean, around there, anyway."

"We'd end up at the haven early, but it's not like the Gighee has much of a schedule to hold itself to." Noct was sliding the phone back onto the counter next to the shop patron. Wouldn't want them wondering who stole their possessions while they were out.

"One moment," came the murmur from Ignis's direction. They gave him several while he gathered more information, which was left unvoiced as he went over to each of the stone people. The child tracks were overlapped by the tread of red-soled dress shoes, but Ignis was unconcerned, his attention placed more on tracking each petrifacted person's line of sight.

When he finished, the four of them walked away from the chocobo post and towards the Nebulawood.

"It may have turned the people to stone when they gazed directly at it," Ignis mused. "All of them were looking in the same direction, and their gazes met at a focal point. The tracks on the ground match with that assessment. The Gighee caught their attention with its antics first."

There wasn't an explanation for where the child's tracks fit into that, but if they found the creature in question, they could get an answer for that too. That's the supposition they would operate on, anyway.

They went further into the wood, where mist crept around every tree trunk and made things harder to see below the knees. Even with that, there was no sign of the 'spindly-legged horse thing' or the child, but curiosity gnawed at at least half of the group.

"What if it's… related? The missing kids, and the Gighee flipping out?" Prompto asked.

"Too far away to be related, I'd say," Gladio said. "Insomnia's all the way over east, and we're all the way over here. Doesn't make sense."

"Hm… but, y'know, the radio was on over at Wiz's, going on about the news. It's the same station we heard at Galdin."

"You're saying the Gighee overheard the news?"

"That assumes it has a concept of language," Ignis added, though he cast a knowing glance at Prompto.

"It's not that far-fetched," Noct said. "We're talking about a magical horse that can, well, _magically _tell who's a king, a 'chosen one', or a virgin just by looking at them. Being able to tell the difference between a kid and a grown-up is a bit obvious, but the rest of that? It's got those concepts down, but how would it know what those are? Makes you wonder."

Judging by the concern in his expression, Prompto did exactly that.

The sun started its crawl toward the horizon —or in the terms of the 'new' _Origins_ version, the Stygian started his daily chase of the star. Gladio had to wonder what the Clever saw in that tale that he felt the need to include it. It was interesting, yeah, but why risk the contradiction of the existing tales of the Six? Why differ so much from the other texts, especially with the story of Somnus and his weapons?

The text in Calypso's version was different too, inasmuch as it elaborated a little more on the Draconian. The Optimus version _hadn't_ mentioned that the God of Light slept within the Crystal after the Great War, and that it was still there. That gave a bit of context to why the Caelum family was tasked to protect the Crystal aside from it being part of the heart of the planet, yet Optimus omitted the detail even though he was after Calypso, the hundred-and-eighth King of Lucis where Calypso was the hundredth.

That didn't even get into _why_ the Draconian would be there. It was generally held as true that the Draconian won against the Infernian and had put him to rest on top of Mount Ravatogh. So was _he_ wounded too? Hmm… he wouldn't need to be, for him to be in the Crystal. Most of the gods were asleep anyway, hence the use of Messengers throughout the ages. They slept in their elements. The Hydraean was under water, the Archaean was in a crater, so on.

Something didn't feel right about it, though, but maybe that was just the translations at play. Being too literal for certain things lent itself to misunderstanding, same with being overly figurative, and that didn't get into how muddled the book could get if it was a translation of a translation of a translation instead of made directly from the source. For that, one had to be a part-time anthropologist to even start hacking the text, full-time if they wanted to make corrections.

The four reached the haven with still no sign of the Gighee, even when the mist reached up to their waists and the forest's density disguised the time of day. They set up the tent and the chairs, but no dinner just yet.

"Sure you don't wanna catch a nap, Noct?" Prompto asked.

"Why, so I can wake up ten years later? I already didn't nap in the car like usual; don't give me any ideas."

Ignis took off his glasses and wiped at the lenses. "Noct is right; if we intend on finding the creature again, he would have to be awake for it. His magic should enable us to see it, hopefully before it sees us, if that is indeed a requirement. Given the incident at the post, we would all be able to see the Gighee regardless of who we are or if he's present, but it was most receptive and playful in _his_ presence, so it's safe to say he may be able to _reason_ with it. As much as one can reason with a 'starry pink horse', anyway."

"So, what do we do in the meantime?"

"We kill time, as it were."

Prompto got the idea, so to do that, he summoned both the King Callidus edition and the King Optimus edition of the _Origin_ texts to try and compare them. It looked difficult at first glance, as the Optimus text was the closest thing to 'layman's terms' save for King Regis ordering a more modern translation to be done, and the Optimus version was over a hundred years old already by now. Naturally, he started with the more suspect portions of the text that mentioned Somnus's different accessories.

Ignis sat beside Prompto to help him keep his place in either text. "The mention of Somnus with a Shield and Scepter is peculiar… the Sword is one thing, as we know he wielded the very first Royal Arm. Nothing stops the Founder King's sword from being named a 'Sword of Starlight' given his divine undertaking."

"It'd match up with the Ring of Radiant Light that he got in the first place, but… why _would_ he have a sword with him, if all he and Stella needed to do was heal disease?"

They both looked at Gladio.

Gladio raised an eyebrow. "He could've carried it around in case of an emergency. I still haven't found anything in Calypso's edition to _say_ that daemons existed and that the plague got to that point, but let's treat it as a given so you guys can put your heads together about the rest of it."

Ignis offered a single nod as something that passed for thanks, and kept looking over the texts that Prompto had. "_Assuming _daemons existed at that point in time, the Founder King would have been tasked to slay them with that sword. It either held the power of the Crystal within it, or he imbued it with such. We do call the Crystal the 'Star of Lucis', after all."

"So the problem is, what's the Scepter and the Shield? Are those Royal Arms too?" Prompto flipped some pages to find a match in the Optimus version for what was shown in the Callidus version, but no such luck; Somnus and Stella were there, with no special scepter or other items.

"That's a much more debatable detail." Ignis pushed up his glasses. "Throughout the generations, some Kings have had their weapons commissioned while they were alive, and other Kings simply… didn't."

"... That's the summarized version isn't it?"

"Yeah, Ignis gave you a summary," Noct chimed in. "But it's true. Some of the weapons my ancestors wielded weren't really _theirs _theirs. They found them."

"Stole them?"

"No, _found _them," Noctis corrected. "The thing with mythril ore happened to another type of metal. Sure wish we'd kept the old name for summonings, it'd make more sense that way…" he mused.

"What Noctis means is that what we call the 'Armiger' today used to be the '_Summoning of Phantom Swords_'," Ignis added.

"Guess they had to call it something different because it wasn't just about swords, but they were still phantoms because," Noctis motioned with his hands, "they're made out of phantom metal."

"... Phantom metal? You lost me, Noct." Prompto shook his head.

"Orichalcum. It was _almost _like mythril with the whole 'bathed in the Crystal's light' deal, except it soaked up the light for too long and became _like _it in the sense of, it's not a solid. So, sometimes, when weapons were made with orichalcum, they'd exist for a while and then they'd," Noct made a so-so motion with his hand, "not be there anymore. And people didn't have a way of bringing those weapons back unless they were a Caelum, since our line's attuned with the Crystal."

Ignis nodded. "Therein lies a chance the Royal Arm that we know currently as the Shield of the Merciful King was indeed the Shield of Sable Blossoms, and that it wasn't used for the first time _by _King Althea, she's merely the one that kept it in her possession and managed to add it to the arsenal to be passed down the line instead of letting it disappear. That would result in her legacy attached to it, while its potential former name was left behind. As for why Somnus didn't pass it down himself, it could be for the same reason his own Arm remains outside of the Arsenal, whatever such reason is."

"Oh…" Prompto shut the Optimus book and whisked it into thin air. "So the other Kings went around the world and found more weapons that were made in the past, and took those weapons as theirs. So that makes Noct's ancestors…"

"Treasure hunters," Noctis concluded.

Silence.

"Pirates," Ignis corrected.

"Looters," Gladio concurred.

"Thieves," Prompto confirmed.

"_Treasure. Hunters._" Noct couldn't insist on it any more crossly if his life depended on it.

Gladio took it upon himself to steer the conversation elsewhere. "History lesson aside, maybe that's all, I dunno, figurative, parabolic, allegorical, whatever you wanna call it. If you ask me, that part of the 'Shield of Sable Blossoms' is just a way of explaining tradition. They say that he had a 'Shield' like an item, to explain why the Kings of today have Shields as people."

Prompto shrugged. "Or maybe your family took on the name and role to honor the real thing? Checks out, what with your name and Iris's. The King's Shield _is_ named after flowers."

"Could've been that too. Starting from Melanthios Amicitia all the way on down."

A wrinkle formed at the bridge of Noct's nose in response to a detail that didn't match. "Why's your dad named Clarus then?"

"He was born as _Chloris, _but who cares, right? Just a name." The way Gladio looked at Noctis suggested this dealt with matters a generation above them, but the annoyance over it carried enough to morph his response into secondhand bitter sarcasm, and if Noctis knew any better, he wouldn't repeat the same act that generated it.

Noctis caught that and winced. "Can we change the subject?"

Gladio's only response was a '_Heh_' that sounded more like '_Yeah, you'd _better _want a subject change._' He was going to his grave with the same name as on his birth certificate, kings be damned.

Prompto took up Noctis's offer. He handed the Callidus book over to Ignis, then got up on his feet and yawned and stretched on his tiptoes. "All this egghead stuff is making me _restless_." His tone wasn't yet a whine, but it was getting there. "Anyone wanna spar? I gotta get all this energy out if we're just gonna sit around all day!"

"I'm fine doing nothing." Noct added a lame shrug, and got elbowed in the ribs by Gladio as reward.

"You could use some sharpening up."

"Don't wanna," Noct grumbled. "Rather nap instead."

Oh, _now _he wanted to rest up. "For a guy that doesn't like vegetables, you sure wanna make a great impression of one."

Prompto dismissed the whole thread with a wave of his hand. "Forget him, Gladio. Why don't _you _spar with me? No weapons, no magic, just you and me, _mano a mano._"

That was … intriguing, for lack of better terms, enough to have a smile creep up on Gladio's face. "You don't want that, trust me."

"Yeah, I do. Wouldn't be asking ya if I didn't."

"Alright, alright…" Gladio got the crick out of his neck as he stood up, and gave each of his limbs a good shake to get the sluggishness out. Maybe this would do him some good after all. "So, how much do you know about fist-fighting anyway?"

"Uhh… a little," Prompto said.

'A little' wasn't very indicative of much, but it was fine. A good spar would help him figure out what that meant.

They circled each other, took the time to feel their opponent out. Prompto was the wary type, by the looks of it. Like he was ready to dodge even the hint of a strike, maybe throw a couple of cautious swipes when he had the chance. Had to be ready, considering who he was up against; Gladio would be damned if someone thought his muscles were just for looks.

Gladio threw a low kick just to see what Prompto would do. Prompto got it out of his way. Went in to strike at the Shield's midsection, but Gladio timed a punch of his own. The blond saw the fist coming at him and got clear of it, put some distance between them. He was quick on his feet, a _little_ more attuned with his body than one would expect from a guy who relied on a gun to deal damage. That 'little' he knew looked promising.

They paced around again. Gladio would tense like he was ready to strike, just to see Prompto mirror it. They were both trying to use his 'jumpy' nature to his advantage. It was only a matter of if Gladio knew the guy better than he knew himself.

Prompto kicked—too high. Gladio caught his leg and yanked towards him. Got Prompto off his balance, knocked him flat on his back, then pinned him.

"Come on, what was that?" Gladio sounded more amused than anything.

"I dunno!" Prompto failed to keep the embarrassment out of his voice.

He'd be granted a bit of mercy; Gladio released the pin and pulled him back to his feet.

"Don't help me," the blond muttered.

"You're _welcome_."

Noct didn't _say _he was taking some fun at Prompto's expense, but the smile on his face as he watched this match said exactly that.

Ignis observed as well, the book in his lap had long been closed. "Prompto, you must play to _your_ strengths, not his," he advised.

A quick glance away from his opponent. "How do I even know what those are?"

"Things that aren't immediately obvious to the conscious mind can be gleaned from the subconscious."

"Meaning?"

"Search your feelings."

Hey, didn't that count as 'help'? Where was Prompto's objection there? Gladio wouldn't say anything about it, though. Watching those two make exceptions for each other was kind of cute.

But enough. Back to before. The way they circled the haven was reminiscent of hands on a clock, the minute hand keeping in step with the hour hand. They met at the middle again and Prompto was quick as was expected. Gladio weaved out of the way, countered the strikes, made Prompto back up.

It was a lot of that. From what he could see, Prompto _almost_ had something going, but he wasn't quite there yet. Felt like he was overthinking his moves trying not to get hit. Oftentimes he threw a single tentative punch, followed it up with one or two more hits if he felt particularly brave. He had an intuitive sense of what he could do within a specific range; _applying_ whatever he knew was another matter. He needed to be more direct, sure of himself, to do that.

Prompto was taking Ignis's words to heart as the match went on, at least. Started to figure out what his strengths were, and he was less 'jumpy' and more 'fluid'. He managed to get a good hit in when he provoked a right hook and ducked under it to clock Gladio under his false ribs.

That was a stronger hit than _either_ of them were expecting; surprise stretched Prompto's features at seeing Gladio back away and put a hand where he'd been struck. "I'm, I'm sorry!"

"What?" Gladio huffed and shook his head, brushed the apology aside with his free hand. "Nah, don't. Should've seen it coming myself. I'm good."

"You sure?"

"Would you be sorry if this were a real fight?"

The blond gave it some thought. "… No, guess I wouldn't…"

"And you shouldn't be."

Ignis raised his hand. "A pause to this, if you will?"

Noct frowned. "Come on, Ignis! It was just getting good!"

"They were just _sparring, _not engaging in bloodsport. Find your entertainment elsewhere, Noct."

Noct crossed his arms and looked away, and left further objections unsaid.

Prompto relaxed from his stance, and his hands came to rest on his stomach. "I _am_ getting kinda hungry, come to think of it."

"Which is exactly why I called for a break." Ignis rose from his seat and approached the outer edge of the haven grounds. "It's about time for a meal. Sparring on an empty stomach in the first place was a foolish decision."

Prompto's 'empty stomach' situation didn't take away the bounce in his step as he went over to Ignis's side. "I'll help you set everything up if that'll make it up to you."

"It _might_."

Gladio left them to do what they would, and went over to Noctis's side. "You look disappointed."

"What, me? M'not," he lied.

The swordsman fought the ache in his own side to give his liege a playful shove to the shoulder. "Come on, hate to think Ignis is that right about you. At that rate, in a couple of years you might be known as the Bloodthirsty King."

"I'm not 'bloodthirsty', I just, uhm," what word Noctis had meant to finish that with hid itself in the furthest corners of his mind so that he couldn't reach it to give it a sound.

"You just wanted to see him get his ass kicked. Gotcha."

He neither confirmed nor denied that was the case.

( While those two conversed clear on the other side of the Haven, Ignis and Prompto were setting up the table, the portable stove atop it, and all the usual things. They moved around without a word, cognizant enough of where the other stood that they didn't bump into each other.

"Come on, Iggy, let it out," Prompto teased.

"You held back."

"I know."

"Why?"

"Winning wasn't the point."

Ignis sighed, and had no counter for that.

"Y'know, you don't look it, Specs, but you're _really _competitive. S'like you wanna prove something to Gladio."

The adviser raised a finger, gesturing for the other to hold his tongue. "You and I will convene tomorrow morning. _Early_ in the morning."

"For what?"

"There's more space and fewer people here. Come to your own conclusions." )

While Noct's silence skirted the edge of adorable to watch, it didn't make Gladio any less curious. "So what's your deal with the newbie anyway? I get you two go way back, but it's like a rivalry or something." His voice took on a tone that was warmer, more teasing and brotherly. "Had a crush on the same girl once? His fave team won a match against yours? Don't tell me," and he made a show of having to think of this one, "he stole your bucket?"

Noctis made a noise that _suggested _that the suppositions were ridiculous, but didn't say anything.

"No, really... was he the guy that talked shit about your arms?"

The only response was that the prince crossed his arms even tighter, as if to hide them.

Gladio shook his head lightly. Noct was too much sometimes. "I'm gonna go freshen up for a bit, alright? Maybe you two should try patching things up with some problem-solving." He got a nod in return, and headed to the pond.

* * *

The water here was as refreshing as it was the last time they stopped at the haven. Each handful he splashed himself with served to cool him down.

Being honest, that spar was kind of fun. Prompto had a tendency to overthink things ( and Gladio was reminded of someone _awfully _familiar, with that one ) but he had potential, and it wouldn't hurt to help him hone his skills so he had something to back him up if an enemy got too close for him to shoot reliably. No one ever won a battle by hesitating, after all.

Yet, he considered how easy it was for Prompto to slip into those snap-quick, fluid motions. He thought of the, for lack of better terms, precise imprecision in Ignis's advice. How to apply himself wasn't _really _what Prompto needed to learn. Iggy already had that covered.

Heck, learning might not even be why he suggested the spar in the first place, given how much time Gladio spent of it without a single worry in his head. Prompto hadn't done that for himself.

He could imagine the newbie's confident little smirk, like he had back when they first met as Crownsguard. The guy might not have been big on books and history, but he knew how to read people.

Iggy made the right choice in keeping him around—

_What was that? _

He thought he heard the patter of feet on the grass. Turned to look, but couldn't see a damn thing in all this mist. He reached out and twisted the space just beyond his fingers. The Shield of the Merciful King formed where it needed to be. He took cover behind it and waited for any more sign that he wasn't by himself in this place. That sound was a good thing, but not if the child and Gighee were both hostile from the beginning. Though the mist stopped _him_ from seeing _them_, there was no telling if it worked the other way.

So he waited.

There wasn't any other sound. At least, no more sound _yet. _Could he be relieved that maybe he was hearing things, or exercise more caution yet? Fifty-fifty choices were always hardest to figure out. Eh, he'd keep the Shield up.

Wait. _Wait. _There was something in the air. A… scent? Yeah... like someone had just put out a fire and the remains were still breathing out their last. He wondered if it was the others, but it was too early to go to sleep with what they had pending. He moved away from the pond and back towards camp. This would be cleared up if he could get to them.

The closer he got, the stronger the scent, and the more his suspicion grew. Not just an extinguished fire. An extinguished _body_. This was different, an unknown.

He got his phone out. He couldn't claim that he knew how to work it blind, but he'd tr— the phone disappeared from his hands like he'd never held it at all.

"_You won't need that._"

Who the hell? This voice talked like it chugged down gravel smoothies on the regular and filtered what was left through a pipe flange. Shit. This wasn't the Gighee _or _a child for that matter, so he took the risk. Summoned the Axe of the Chaos King to his other hand. Opened his eyes.

The shadow that loomed over him truly **loomed. **Its form didn't even look solid; wavered to the wind like a barely-lit candle. It was a cross between a ghost and the statues he'd seen scattered around Insomnia, marking the sparse few temples that worshipped who-knows-what other god.

"The hell are you?"

"_You'll find out soon._"

How ominous, but waiting for it to reveal itself when 'soon' arrived sounded like a bad idea. He swung the axe only to see it pass harmlessly through the middle. The blade scattered an apparition of smoke, shape formed from the fog that permeated through the forest. That's what it _looked _like happened, anyway. How could this thing hold a shape if it was also 'nothing', though? And how could the same 'nothing' take his phone? Had to be _something_ under there.

He swung the axe again and again and again, to no avail. The ghost felt nothing. It did nothing. He even tried to cleave it in half from bottom to top with an upward strike. Nothing either, but the image faded away at least.

Something whimpered to his right. He turned to look and saw what had caused it. _Who _had caused it.

A child, maybe it was _the _child, cowering behind a shrub. The kid looked just as weird as the Gighee. Black pants and shirt and gloves, normal enough. But then weird puffed-out hair the same gold as the horse's mane. Purple leg warmers same as the horse's vest, but with little red spikes sticking out. Definitely red slippers on the kid's feet, and a mask covered their face with a vertical split down the middle, right half black and the left half white, save for the green lightning bolt drawn on that left side. Then there were antennae sticking out the top of the mask bearing giant red-and-white pennants long enough to trail at the kid's feet whenever he stood still.

In hindsight, he should have questioned how easily he could see the kid. He was more concerned about the fact that the kid was whimpering at the sight of him like _he _was the danger. The child slipped behind the bushes and completely disappeared like in one of those cartoons. It'd be funny if it wasn't so unnerving.

He thought of putting the axe away. He'd definitely look less scary without a weapon. But then he heard the clop of hooves and his eyes followed the noise on reflex and it occurred to him too late that

* * *

"The book mentioned a 'scepter with a stone', right?" Noctis sat cross-legged on the ground, and had summoned a Royal Arm from one of the former kings.

"That's 'scepter with a _precious _stone', but yeah." Prompto had taken a seat across from him in a similar position, and Noctis passed the Arm over to him so that he could inspect it.

It was the Staff of the Holy King, though he was called _the Pious _for short, and his weapon was known as a _Scepter_. Thanks to the history lesson earlier on, the two of them knew that the Pious had the honor of being the hundred-and-fourth King of Lucis, Queen Delacier's contemporary, and in power when Tenebrae was brought in under the Empire's 'protection'. As far as Noctis was concerned, the 'protection' part was an out-and-out lie considering the murder of Queen Sylva, but that wasn't what they were going to concern themselves with.

"Well, this one doesn't have a stone anywhere near it," Prompto said. "Might not be the one." He handed it back to Noct.

"For all we know it could've fallen off or whatever." Noct took the Scepter in hand and gave it a good look of his own. He shook it just to check if it was hollow and the 'precious stone' was contained in the inside. He didn't hear anything. "With what it does, if the Founder King actually did have it with him, it'd make sense too."

"Why, what does it do?"

To demonstrate, Noct planted the Scepter into the ground, and ethereal blades materialized from thin air and did the same, forming a circle around him. "This."

Awe left Prompto dumbstruck for a couple of seconds, then the slow nods of his head were accompanied by a sitting round of applause. "That _does _fit. A staff that summons light swords. He'd have needed that if just the one sword wasn't enough."

"We've yet to find out what's meant by the 'Shield of Sable Blossoms', or even if you're correct in the supposition of the Pious's Scepter being the same as the one recorded in the book." Ignis was ever dedicated to the cause of keeping their ideas at a reasonable level.

"We can prove _some _part of it, right?" Noctis dismissed the blades and left the staff on its own. "At least that it's older than, what, 300 years or so?"

"How would you plan to do that?"

"By summoning another Royal Arm, one that was owned by a King that ruled before the Pious. From there, we'll see if the age of the weapons match."

Ignis remained quiet as he pondered on the viability of that method. "It could be that the weapon of a younger King would have seen more use and become more weathered over time, or even that the properties of orichalcum ore can preserve their condition better than a normal weapon forged within the same time. But please, don't let that stop you. Try it anyway."

Noct shrugged, and summoned the Throwing Star of the Crouching Dragon King. It was King Calypso's weapon, though she was known as _the Rogue _for short, and her weapon was simply called the _Star_ for its shape. To call it by its full name was a hell of a mouthful, though '_Crouching Dragon_' as a title was apt for her, given her record in history. With her father King Furvus on the throne and Prince Perfidus as the next in line, no one expected her to do much of anything back when she was no one else beyond Princess Crepera. But with their deaths at the hands of a great daemon, she proved herself possessed of political acumen and capable of the throne, even if not a perfect ruler.

Rumors were legion for why she rarely made public appearances and 'spurned the public eye', according to records: she thought the media vapid ( even four-hundred years ago, the fourth power was insufferably invasive ); she devoted more of her time to being King than being relatable to her citizens, and held a record that no other King had been able to match in that regard; some rumors arose that she was Mute and couldn't show up in public to make speeches and socialize anyway. It could've been one, or could've been all three. She at least contributed to sign language being commonplace.

But the main idea here was that she was the hundredth King and her throwing star was commissioned during her lifetime. Story has it that she'd slain a great wyrm with it in its inaugural battle, probably the very daemon that killed her brother and father. Her Throwing Star had to look a hundred or so years older than the Scepter, otherwise it'd prove that the Scepter was ancient.

They looked about the same.

Noct had set them down next to each other and stared at them intently before he declared, "I have no idea what to look for here."

Prompto gestured towards Ignis as if to present him to an audience. "Leave it to Ignis, the expert spathologist!"

"That word choice is murder on anyone with a lisp. And I'm surprised you even know what a spathologist is!"

"Why wouldn't I? It's the word for 'swords' and the word for 'study', it's easy!"

Noctis muttered something under his breath in the form of a question.

Ignis listened to their back and forth, and shook his head. "I'll make my deductions later. That you all eat takes first and foremost priority."

"Not all of us, Gladio's still out." Prompto tipped his head to the chair where Gladio would usually sit.

Noct got up and dusted himself off, then dismissed the Scepter and Star. "Should be back by now," he said almost to himself. He stepped out to the edge of the warded grounds toward the pond. The raised earth should have provided a decent vantage point to view the surroundings, but there was too much mist and trees and _everything _to see beyond arm's length.

Eyes were obviously not ears, though, so he hooked two fingers to the corners of his mouth and whistled, loud and sustained until he hadn't enough air left to keep the noise up.

The return whistle didn't come.

Nor was there a response on his phone, from what Ignis saw. He was usually quick to answer, but the seconds ticked on the screen and the phone continued to ring.

Noctis didn't need any more proof something was wrong. He took off from the haven to where Gladio had gone.

Prompto was quick to go after him. "Wait up, Noct, it's—"

"If the next words out of your mouth are '_it's dangerous to go alone_', I swear to the Six I'll turn back around and _kill_ you!"

What words Prompto had thought of finishing the sentence with crammed themselves back down his throat to avoid Noctis's threat, and he slowed his pace to keep his distance.

Ignis kept in step with Prompto. "Noctis, we can't rush in without a plan!"

"Then _make_ the plan, damn it!"

"You're not exactly making this easy," Ignis muttered, and only Prompto was able to catch that. In a volume Noctis could hear, he answered, "The best action to take is a spell to block sight. That way…" he left his words unsaid.

But even that idea met resistance, though it was sound. "You're not gonna cast until I see what happened to Gladio, got it? I need to know if he's okay!"

Closer to the lake, the fog cleared, and Noctis saw something that made him halt.

Prompto did as well, off to the side. Something flat with rounded edges. He got close, and picked up Gladio's phone with that missed call from Ignis, just as Noctis asked, "Gladio…?" at what was in front of him.

The question was tentative, the prince's next steps as well. The closer he got, the less he wanted to believe it. It was only when his fingers brushed on the surface of what could have been smooth marble and he traced the contours of what was once palpable flesh, that it hit him that his bodyguard had turned to stone. Just like the people at the chocobo post.

The Merciful King's Shield was still in Gladio's hand, and the Chaos King's Axe was in the other. That was all that Noct needed to register.

Ignis felt it in the back of his head. A clinch of nerves, whip-cracks of pain. They spiderwebbed out from a single point. Once-gossamer threads turned **jagged** as a surge of energy shot through them.

Just as sharp was the apparition of a Royal Arm into Noctis's hands —the Twin Swords that once belonged to the Wanderer, King Valerius.

"I'll find that thing, and I'll _kill it._" Noctis's voice was thick with barely-contained bloodlust, and he began to pace around the forest in search of the creature.

"Noct, _no! _You can't do that!" Prompto clutched at the side of his head to try and suppress the headache that had him slumped next to a tree for support. The aura alone as Noctis got close to him was enough to make revulsion churn in his stomach.

The prince stopped his pacing and whirled to face his 'friend'. "You're _right;_ I should make it _**suffer**__._" There was a wild look in his eyes, an unholy _giddiness_ at the prospect.

"Prompto is right, Noct…" Ignis was down to one knee. "We're here to convince it to stop. If it sees you with weapons drawn, you'll scare it—!" Another pulse of magic stole the breath from him, and he dropped to his fours.

"And I should care, _why?_ If it wasn't hostile in the _first_ place, Gladio wouldn't have any _weapons_ out. If that thing didn't want to _die_, it shouldn't have hurt my _friend_." Noctis dispelled one of the Twin Swords as he strode over to Ignis. He was lighter on his feet than he should have been; lack of compunction gave him a glide to his step. He knelt before the brunet, his fingers found the underside of his retainer's chin, and he tipped his head up and almost back. "I dunno, 'don't touch what's mine and you won't get hurt' seems cut-and-dried to _me_. What do _you _think?"

It took what strength Ignis could muster in him to wrench himself from Noct's grip, but it wasn't enough. It wasn't even adequate for a twitch. The intent was still there and noticed by the mad prince, and his fingers pressed harder, nails left reddening half-moon marks on Ignis's skin where they dug in to either side of his face.

"I asked a question. _**Respond.**_"

It was too much to expect. The once-balmy evening air around them was ablaze with energy, and Ignis hadn't been inured to the sensation of inhaling glass dust, his every breath leaving his throat raw and lungs scored bloody.

The worst that Prompto had to deal with were that his legs felt like gelatin, and the sickness in his stomach brought to mind the aftereffects of the attack that Diabolos had hit him with. Watching what was happening to Ignis, the way Noctis _treated _him, made him more sick yet. He still had enough voice in him to call out, "You idiot! Killing the Gighee might not bring Gladio back!" Anything to get Noct away from Ignis.

The words didn't make Noctis release his grip. At best, he took note of Prompto through the corners of his eyes, but never turned to fully face him. "It'll make me _feel better._"

"That's not what Gladio would want!"

"He'd _want_ to be _**alive!**_"

While they argued, Ignis took in a rasping breath. He grasped both the torrent of magic that rolled through him and the pain in his chest, and channeled both around his fingers. The magic turned black, gathered into his palm. He held onto Noctis's arm and cast, "_When the twilight bell tolls… and light falls to dark… know that the present is an illusion._"

The effect settled in seconds. Blue eyes had lost focus, as did sage ones. Noct released his hold and raised his hand to his face. He saw nothing, and more of the same as he turned his head to either side. "Ignis? Dispel the magic. _**Now.**_"

"I won't…" The retainer's grip slackened, and it was only by pressing his head and hands to the ground that he could keep himself up; despite verbal defiance, his posture was akin to a deep bow in apology to his liege. "Being able to look at… at something that…" the words escaped him in incoherent sputters and coughs. He managed, "it's the _last _thing you want."

"That's so _considerate _of you_. _Fine, I don't need sight anyway." Noctis stood, then used the tip of his boot to feel around for where his servant was, and rewarded him by pressing his face further into the dirt. He found something else on the ground too, and pressed until there was a pop and crackle of glass.

Satisfied, he turned to stalk the woods. He swung the sole twin blade idly and spun it in circles like a windmill, generating funnels of air that he scattered in all directions. He followed the currents of wind and the trails of dispersed magic, and relied on the sound of shaking leaves to guide his search, and headed east.

Prompto waited until he was gone, and felt the strength return to his limbs. He chided himself for his own uselessness; _Damn it, I should've done more. Should've stopped Noct_. That regret guided him to where Ignis was.

Ignis was nowhere close to being upright on his own. He picked his head up at the sound of footsteps and began to crawl to something for support. He looked more than pale. _Sickly, _lips dried and close to cracking, like the life had been drained out of him in what time he spent in Noctis's grasp. He murmured weakly when he felt hands touch his face. His skin was cold and coarse.

"Iggy, it's me. It's me." Prompto dropped to his knees and summoned a Hi-Potion bottle. "I've got a Potion, okay? You'll feel better in no time." He held it to his friend's mouth, and quick-cast a tier-one Blizzard spell to cool the drink. Ignis took hold of both the bottle and Prompto's hand, as if it'd make a difference in how steady it was, and drank it to the last drop.

Once it was done, Ignis shifted so that he sat upright, and caught his breath now that he could. The color had returned to his face, and the nail marks disappeared, though his eyes remained unfocused from the Blind cast, and his face was still mired with dirt. Try as he might to affect rigidity in his posture, his body shook with hitched breaths every once in a while.

Prompto wanted to believe it was just hiccups from having drunk the Potion too fast, but he said nothing of that. Instead he picked up what Noct left behind, half-crushed and partly buried. The right lens stayed intact but had popped out of the frame. The left lens was fractured, and the frame itself was a little cracked along the bridge. Prompto put the unbroken lens back in its place.

"I… got you your glasses," he said.

"Thank you."

"Do you want me to…?"

"It's fine, I can do this myself."

To Iggy's credit, he held a masterful grasp on the glasses and guided them where they needed to be. Temple tips around his ears, bridge comfortable at the root of his nose. He looked okay.

The lens popped back out and the glasses broke right off at one hinge, leaving a temple dangling uselessly from his ear and the rest of his glasses sitting lopsided on his face.

There was a sharp breath, and the barest twitch of his facial muscles. "This is fine."

Like hell it was. Prompto pulled Ignis close into an _Everything-in-the-World-Will-Be-Alright _hug, not exactly like the ones his mom would give, but close enough to the original thing, and Ignis held on like he wanted to believe it. He really did want to, for however long it'd last.

His lips moved with barely-audible words, and it took a couple of seconds for Prompto to register that Ignis had said "I'm sorry."

"… What? No. Iggy, _no. _What are you even saying 'Sorry' for?"

"Too many things," was the cryptic reply.

Prompto didn't know what else to do except run his fingers through Ignis's hair in an attempt to soothe him. "You didn't do anything wrong. You did what you had to. It's time I did, too. I'll find Noct and stop him before he does anything stupid. I'll… I'll be back in no time, okay?"

He loosened his hold and pulled away, or tried to. The feel of that made Ignis grab hold of the blond to stop him from leaving. "Wait!"

Prompto didn't _want _to think was panic, but he thought it anyway. His own hold on the brunet was gentler, though he still tried to prise the fingers from around the collar of his shirt, and ignored the prickle in his eyes. "It's alright. You gotta trust me. I promise, I'll come back fine."

"… It's not that," Ignis said.

"Then… what is it?"

Ignis reached up and pulled what was left of his glasses off of his face, then tried his best to look Prompto in the eyes, perhaps hoped the intensity of his gaze would make up for the lack of definitive eye contact. He took a slow, deliberate breath in preparation for his words, and Prompto prepared himself thusly to hear them.

"How do I look?"

Prompto hadn't a damned clue if he heard right, until he saw the wispy ghost of a smile on the brunet's lips. Then he found himself smiling back. "You look…" _better. Like you're as fine as you'd say you are if I'd asked. Like you won't die. _"… like shit, dude."

The vise grip on the shirt became a pair of appreciative pats.

Prompto let Ignis go, then took off in the direction that he'd last seen Noct headed in. East, where the rock slopes were highest; the first time around, they spotted the Gighee near there before they reached the haven. It would take a while for the Blind spell to run out, so Noctis would continue to rely on the Aero spell to tell him where he was going. That was the guess that Prompto would make, at least.

With each step he took, he wished, hoped, _pleaded _silently that his worries stayed where they were so that he could distance himself from them and keep his head clear, but they were persistent. His mind kept going back to it.

He didn't like it. He never did. Whatever arrangement those two had, it looked more and more like it only worked for one side. Any time Noct got upset, Ignis kept paying for it, enduring it without an objection worse than a well-timed Sleep spell. Why didn't Noctis ever pull back? Just share _less _of his magic with Ignis? Gladio sure made it work without that strong a bond of magic between them.

Now more than ever, it showed; the bond between retainer and prince wasn't about what was sensible, so much as what was convenient. Prompto should have said something about it sooner.

'_I, uhm... I noticed you were kinda cagey about your job around Mom and Dad._'

'_... I'm sorry. That was rude of me._'

'_No, it's fine. It's fine if you don't want to talk about it._'

'_Are you sure?_'

'_Yeah, of course! Like Mom said, we all work for someone more important than us._'

'_I suppose that's true. ... __It's not because I don't "want" to talk about it._'

'_Oh... super secret?_'

'_Something like that._'

'_It fits__. I mean, working for the royal family? Gotta be secret in spades. Sounds like it has its perks, though. What's a word you'd use... right, it's _lucrative_. Did I get that right?_'

'_You have the correct word for what _you_ want to convey, yes._'

'_What's that supposed to...?_'

'_..._'

'_Ignis...?_'

All he'd gotten in response was an averted gaze, the ghostly twitch to Ignis's lips from a smile that failed to stick, a mask that fell away before he could put it up.

Prompto didn't think to ask more about what Ignis really _was _to Noct, though a word came to mind that he feared to say aloud. So he tried not to talk of it any more, rationalized it as best as he could. That it wasn't any of his business, or that to pry in such matters or to say that word would offend Ignis. Prompto made no illusions that he understood the relationships between nobles, as their world and that of commoners seldom met, so maybe things just worked _differently _up there.

There was a lot of things he didn't do, and keeping silent and leaving that as it was was a mistake.

He saw Noctis just ahead, and slowed to a stop. There was a tree right beside him that he could hide behind, but he didn't think he'd need it, considering the condition Noct was under. By now the sun had sunk low enough for its light to avoid the leaves and bathe the scene in crimson, made everything look… bloodied.

Noct had ceased casting, and instead tilted his head this way and that, to listen for something. Like he'd picked up movement earlier and wanted it to be quiet so he could be certain of the noise. After a while even that had stopped, and he bowed his head forward and stayed there. They weren't facing each other directly; for all Prompto knew, the guy had fallen asleep standing up. That would be the _least_ horrible thing he'd have pulled in the last ten minutes.

He put his thoughts back on track, about the thing they were after. There had to be something more to this. Maybe they'd all assumed wrong, and the Gighee _wasn't _responsible for turning people to stone. It didn't make any sense that Gladio would have confronted the creature without safeguarding against it. He would know to keep from making eye contact with it. He'd keep that in mind better than anyone. Besides, the Royal Arms for a spindly fawn-sized creature was overkill, even for him. What made him draw out the Axe and the Shield? What really petrified him? It'd make sense if it was something bigger, something worse, like a Cockatrice or a Basilisk or a Medusa.

There had to be some way to get Noctis to calm down fully, before he did something he'd regret. Problem was, Prompto couldn't think of it. But he had to try, so that no one got hurt. The group couldn't afford to be both fractured _and _wrong. But what if reason couldn't reach Noct? The blond had to take a breath and steel himself at that thought. Take away his weapons, subdue him as soon as possible. Anything like that could work.

Grass blades crushed underfoot sounded just behind Prompto, to his left, and he turned his head to look. The Gighee's appearance was no different than before, but the creature's eyes simmered with an evident hurt. A hurt that turned into anger, and anger that it wanted to use, judging by its body language. It tensed and planted its hooves more firmly on the ground, and shook its guitar tail like a snake that prepared to strike.

Nothing happened.

The tiny horse had been at Prompto's 'eight o' clock', as Gladio would have termed it. It bounded over to Prompto's 'five', and did it again, the hoof-planting and the tail wiggle.

Nothing again.

Prompto was about to ask what it was doing. Maybe it was a defensive display, to intimidate him? The chocobos had done something like it earlier. He held out his open palms to show he intended no harm.

Something shifted just outside of his direct sight. A child peered out from behind a tree at his 'three o' clock'. Or, he _assumed _it was a human child hiding there, given that it was short, bipedal, had two more limbs, wore clothes, and had hair. Depending on how much of a philosopher he wanted to be, he'd be able to fit a bevy of other things into that criteria.

"I get what's wrong with the other guy, but why didn't _you_ stop moving?" the child asked.

Wait, 'stop moving'? So the Gighee _was _turning things to stone? Prompto kept his voice to a whisper. "It doesn't matter." If the child knew what the tail wiggle was for meant it might've been the same kid whose tracks they'd spotted. "Look, I have to get you out of here. This forest isn't the safest place to be right now."

"No, go away!" The boy hissed. "Big people are scary…"

Well, he couldn't disagree with that. "I get it, but—"

_**Thunk. **_He could see his own reflection in the sword that embedded itself into the tree he was standing near.

Out of an eddy of crystal slivers, a gloved hand gripped the hilt and pried the sword out.

"Heard you got a new _friend_," Noct said, voice dripping with acidic malice. The fact that he couldn't see made the tilts of his head and the wild gaze more unnerving. "I'm _hurt. _You can't just _do that _and not introduce me to 'em."

Prompto had his attention. _Good. __Gotta distract him, make sure he doesn't think of the kid. _"Surprised you heard that," Prompto said aloud, "considering no one likes talking to you at all. You were a loser when we met, and you're still one now."

The sardonic smile turned sour. "You don't get to call _me _that —"

"Just did."

Prompto heard the blade sing as it cut through the air. Were he a mite less nimble, he'd have earned a scar across his torso from hip to shoulder. But of the two of them, he was always the faster one. He took an opening; Noct had swung with his right from right to left. Prompto grabbed hold of that arm to stop the counter-swing. Hooked his leg to the back of Noct's knee. Pushed forward to make him lose his footing. Slammed him to the ground and pinned the other arm down too. They turned into a mess of shallow breaths and struggle.

"Get off of me, you _shit!_"

"Like hell!" Prompto looked over to the child and gestured for him to _'Run'_.

The boy didn't need to be told twice, nor did his companion. They took off to the southwest, in the direction of the haven.

Noct listened to the retreating steps of his prey, and either he had calmed down, or his fury crossed the line into imperceptible, like sound that reached too high a pitch. "You're _defending_ those monsters."

"It's just a kid and a horse! Damnit, Noct, we can still fix this!" It was only a couple of days ago that Noct had played with the Gighee and laughed about it and got a picture, and now? Monsters. He called both the child and the Gighee _monsters_, like none of the prior experiences mattered at all. Would he truly have it in him to treat them that way, too? To _kill_ them just because he was _angry?  
_  
It was messed up, and Prompto barely understood it. If Ignis were the one petrified… if that had happened, he wouldn't lie to himself, he'd be upset. Shit, he was upset _now. _But he hoped to Etro that it wouldn't reach this extent. There were _fields_ worth of space between having no response, and being filled with homicidal rage. And if this _were _the appropriate response, then what about the others in the Chocobo Post? They must have had people who cared about them too. Even if not, what made them less worth this level of emotion at their situation? That Noct didn't know them personally? That shouldn't have mattered!

A King who cares only for his own people, outsiders be damned, selfish to the point where even 'his' people were stratified in terms of their personal worth to him… was it silly of Prompto, _naive_, to have hoped Noctis was better than that?

He got the sword out of Noct's hands and lifted it away so that he couldn't take it back, then swallowed his trepidation and declared, "You don't want to, that's fine. You stay down, and _I'll _fix this."

"Spare me your bullshit! Fix this, _you?_ The hell's your plan, _ask nicely? _Say _please _and hope all the bad things go away?"

Prompto didn't know what to say. Or, he did, but he didn't think Noct would have it in him to understand. The child was _scared_, he'd said as much. It wasn't an accident that the kid's tracks had gone close to the radio. Scared that the children of Insomnia were gone, and lashing out at anything nearby.

He was all too familiar with that rush at giving people even a taste of the pain he held on the inside. It wasn't the right thing to do, but it felt good, even if it was only for a short while. There was nothing simple or perfect about it, though, no perfect situation where only the people that he wanted to be hurt got what was coming. He was trouble for his parents and he knew it. He wondered if his own behavior was the reason that his birth parents didn't want him, like they saw that he would be a terrible child ahead of time and dodged a figurative bullet by making it someone else's problem.

He could hear his father's words: '_Y__ou're not a "bad child", there is no such thing. You're unhappy, and hurting, and to ignore you or blame you for your pain would only make it worse_.'

So he tried to be better. For his parents. For himself, too, and even for those kids he thought were awful to him way back when. Truth be told, he wasn't close to being that better person yet. He didn't think so, not with how tempting it still was to listen to the darker corners of his mind and backslide into the belligerent child he used to be, not with how easily the mood sidled up to him like an old friend and guided his mouth even at this age. He was nowhere _near _that better version of himself. But right now, he had to take those words to heart. He wouldn't let the boy and his friend get hurt. He wouldn't blame them for their pain.

He wouldn't blame Noct for his pain, either, though Noct didn't sound like he ever had that kind of thing told to him to make him realize how he affected those nearby, and rein in his impulses. Prompto didn't know whether that was good or bad, like maybe Noct never regretted a thing in his life. But… would he understand it if it was told to him? Or would he place his own pain above others?

The white-hot bolt that shot through Prompto, that spread out from the back of his head and nearly blacked out his vision said that the question wasn't about whether Noct understood the pain of other people.

He did.

He knew how to inflict the _worst_.

* * *

Noctis understood the following: his question went unanswered. The silence was _typical_ for someone that thought too highly of themselves, who thought they knew better than he did with no evidence or a plan. This had happened so many times before. The nonsense platitudes, the patronizing treatment. He would stop it, here and now.

He felt the shudder of the body above him, listened for the stretch of leather from a clenched fist that refused to release its weapon, then a soft keen of pain from raw magic growing too big for its container. The grip on him weakened, but his own was enough to push that useless body aside.

It may have still held onto that sword, but as long as he had magic, it wouldn't be able to fight back. The connection between them was _useful_; allowed him to sense where others were, overwhelm them if they posed a threat. He'd have truly been fighting blind if he severed that bond.

His hands found flesh, a pulse, warmth. He wrapped his fingers around that frail neck. Forced out what breath was there with a **squeeze**.

The insignificant thing struggled. Writhed beneath him like the dying animal that it was. It kicked, swatted at his face. It should have known to stop. The pain, everything, it'd all be over soon. He would end it. And all of his own problems with it.

No more would anyone pretend they knew better than he did. No more would he be treated like an incompetent, nor would his companions choose an _outsider's _word over _his._ He'd end that with this. And this? It felt _good_. More than that; it felt _right_**.** He'd been waiting ages to do this!

"_N...Noct…_"

Noct?

Noctis?

Yes… he was… He was _Noctis. _And…

The tears that brimmed his eyes would have blurred his vision if he could still see at all. He was Noctis. And his Shield was…

"Gone," he sobbed. "Gladio's _gone, _you hear me? He was _my _Shield... _my_ responsibility. He was supposed to be by _my_ side when I…" Noct couldn't bring himself to say the words.

When Princes became Kings, the Shields they were assigned were there to watch it happen, to take heart in what was their life's work. It was often thought that the Shield protected their liege with their lives, but he didn't see it that way. They protected each other.

Now? Gladio was as good as dead. All because Noctis didn't do enough, wasn't strong enough to heal him with his own magic. He couldn't accept it. He _wouldn't._ But who knew if the effect could be reversed? Not him. And it sure as hell wasn't _Prompto _either.

Who the hell was _he_ to treat him as if he were a child, throwing him useless concessions? The idiot couldn't even _pretend_ that he cared; his first instinct was to coddle a bunch of _beasts_. Not just the horse-thing; he cared more about _chocobos _than he did other people. He didn't feel anything at all when he saw Gladio as a statue, did he? Didn't appreciate how many times the Shield had entertained his stupid ideas or defended him until then.

And even if he _did_ care about anyone, Noctis wouldn't forget that he took the side of those Nifs. He defended that _other _Prince without knowing a damn thing about him!

What a selfish little shit Prompto was. Ignis had some nice words to say about him, and Gladio put in extra effort to make sure he was telling the truth, and he let it get to his head. That's all this was. He even had the audacity to call himself _useful._

No more.

"This is your fault. _Yours. _Got that? You took him away from me, so guess what? You're not my friend anymore!" Noct's voice quavered around the edges of his words—distress ran amok in his mind, though elation glided between the gaps, stemmed forth from the triumph just at his fingertips as he squeezed tighter. "Ignis isn't here to defend you this time. He won't defend you, _ever again. _He's _mine._" Maybe with this interloper out of the way, the retainer would be more aware of his proper place. It'd be a shame for the Prince to have to collect on what he was owed, so soon.

The hilt of the sword struck his cheek, a direct hit to the bone. What else to say of it, other than it burned? It was enough to disorient him. He cursed and let go, warped away to keep clear of Prompto. He put his fingertips to his cheek and flinched at how badly it stung.

Prompto got back to his feet. took in all the air that he could with deep breaths, whenever he wasn't coughing it back up. He wouldn't say a word. There wasn't any, not for what just happened. Better to end this quick. He spun the twin sword around in his fingers, slowly at first, but each revolution saw it spin faster as he boosted it with an Aero spell.

Noctis heard the whistle of the blade as it barely grazed his ear, followed with a crackle of sparks and crystal shards from a warp. He felt a ghost of the pain, stinging heat that swallowed up his nerves from shoulder to hip, a mirror of what he had tried to do. He could see the strike in his mind's eye.

But before Prompto could take the sword and make that mark with it, it dispersed into crystal glimmers and a faint after-image, a phantom once more. There was a hitch of breath at that dismissal of the Royal Arm.

Noct let out a hollow laugh of relief. "Attacked with my own sword? How stupid do you think I am?"

"Plenty." Prompto's fist connected with the side of Noct's head. He didn't let the prince enjoy a second of being laid out on the ground; he held him down and said, "_**Stay there,**_" but the voice sounded too _much _to be entirely his.

Noct was unresponsive. Not like he had any choice.

Once Prompto was sure that he'd _stay _that way, he turned back around to head west in search of the boy and the Gighee. Instead he achieved putting mere meters of distance between himself and Noct before he got a jolt like his bones were going to jump out of his body. The boy was _right there. _The starry pink horse rested behind him, spindly legs folded beneath its body as if it were in the middle of a power nap.

"But —didn't —" Prompto was at a loss for words. "Didn't I tell you to run? Thought you'd be further away than this."

"You did." Good thing the boy didn't bother disputing that. "But you saved us. You're not a scary big person. Who are you?"

"Huh…? I'm Prompto. What's your name?"

The boy looked at his own hands as if contemplating the question, but whether his expression matched was hidden behind his mask. "Christopher."

"Christopher? That's a nice name." He looked uncertainly to the boy and the horse, noting how the mess of hair matched the Gighee's mane, and the leg warmers matched the vest on it. The kid in general looked like he belonged with the Gighee like some kind of 'raised by wolves' situation. Pair that with the low opinion of 'big people'. "Do you have any parents?"

"Parents…?"

"They're big people that take care of little people."

Christopher shook his head. "No big people. No parents. Just Gighee and more kids. But… not anymore, I think." He sniffled, and sensing that as a betrayal to his composure, he reinforced himself with a soft '_Hrm_' and a cross of his arms.

Prompto tried not to think of who that reminded him of, and crouched down so he was level with the child. He tried for a measured voice, one that wasn't scolding or stern. Something like what his dad would talk to him with. "Christopher, did you and Gighee hear about the kids that disappeared?"

There was a shift that resembled a nod of the head. "The talking box said so. They're gone, all of 'em."

"They were your friends, right? You miss your friends?"

Another nod.

"I get that. But, do you mind telling me why big people scare you? Does it have to do with what you said about 'not moving'?"

"Gighee likes having friends. Everybody knows that. But big people, their world is scary. Stuff out there is mean, and they get mean too. They'd think Gighee took the kids. I didn't wanna get in trouble, didn't want 'em to turn mean on him."

Preemptive self-defense out of fear for Gighee being hunted, then? … Considering the ordeal that Prompto had to go through, he couldn't say Christopher was wrong with that assumption. He let out a breath. "I'm sorry you had to learn how bad big people can get," he said. He wasn't that much older than the kid when he found that out himself, and how easily that rubbed off on other children that should have learned better. "I know what that's like, and I know how you feel. But want me to let you in on something super important?"

Christopher knew what a secret was when he heard the hint of it, so he leaned close and cupped his ear.

Prompto could almost laugh at how quickly the boy caught on, but he tried to keep this somewhat serious. He got close and whispered, "Me and my friends are trying to find out what happened to the kids. We're gonna try and get them back."

A gasp, and he had to assume the look behind the mask was one of surprise. "You are?"

"Yeah. I know how much you miss your friends. So we're gonna fix it. But first, you have to fix what you did to all the big people. The one by the pond, too. That one is my friend."

"Your friend is that guy?" Christopher got on tiptoes and raised his hands yea-high, which seemed just about right to indicate Gladio. "With the axe and stuff? I saw him swing it around. He looked mean, and intense."

Gladio was actually using the axe? Prompto didn't like that he was going to have to ask this question, but — "Did he … did he try to use it on Gighee, or on you?"

At that, Christopher shook his head. "… No, he didn't, not exactly…" his tone sounded like he found out he did something bad.

"It's okay. You didn't do anything wrong, just… understandable." If Gighee petrified Gladio to defend Christopher who was scared, but they weren't directly threatened, there was still the question of what triggered that Gladio summon the weapons. "Well, since we know Gighee made him _stop_ moving, is there something that can make start again?"

"Oh, sure!" Christopher bounced from one foot to the other in excitement. "Gighee can do that."

"Really? That's great! Can you and Gighee fix this then, please?" He held his hands palm-to-palm as if in prayer. "It's super important. That guy thinks his little sister might've disappeared too. We're hoping that isn't the case. But, we need him to help us. Otherwise that guy behind me," Prompto pointed his thumb over to Noct, "is gonna stay upset, and we don't want that. He's heaps hurt seeing our friend as a statue."

"Oh… _Ohhhhhh…_" That was the unmistakable sound of someone who understood that actions had consequences and his emotions weren't just his own.

Gighee got up from its nap and approached Prompto. The little horse sniffed and nuzzled at him, and much attention was placed on the blond's right arm during that exploration. Prompto's gaze followed, and he noticed the current from before swirling under his skin, the same as when he fought Diabolos.

_Wait…_

He turned around to where Noctis was. There were faint twitches of his fingers and feet, but nothing outside of that, like he was pinned down by an unseen force.

Christopher peered back there too. "For real?" He sounded more excited than one would expect. Whatever there was to confirm, the Gighee did that with a nod, and the boy returned the gesture before looking to Prompto again. "You're friends with us for real, now. Gighee can tell when you're lying or not."

"He can? That's… that's good."

"Uh-huh! And we're gonna bring back your friend!"

Prompto grinned, and turned back around to Noct. "See, it really _was_ just a matter of asking nicely."

Noct lifted his head up to acknowledge that he'd heard the words, but he wasn't happy about them. "This doesn't prove anything. You're just talk and no action."

"Whatever. See ya, Noct!"

"Yeah," Christopher added. "Get bent, fuckface!"

There was a flash of disbelief at the coarse language, then Noct directed a glare in Prompto's general direction.

"For the record, I didn't teach him that." But Prompto wasn't going to stick around and entertain a debate about who learned what where. He and Christopher made it back past the thicket of trees and mist, to where Gladio stood as petrified as he was before.

Ignis looked in the blond's direction as soon as he heard approaching steps and the clop of hooves. "Prompto, you're alright?"

"Yeah, just like I promised."

Gighee bounded over to Gladio's stone form and circled him as if a careful inspection to make sure he was still whole. It reared up on its hind legs, then planted its forehooves on the ground. With a beam of light that radiated out from the star on the horse's forehead, what stone the light landed on turned to fabric or flesh, affected by gravity, by wind.

The Chaos King's Axe and Merciful King's Shield dissipated into thin air just as quickly, as Gladio regained awareness.

Gighee backed away and returned to Christopher's side, and ease settled into Prompto at knowing that Gladio was restored to normal.

The swordsman looked to everyone. "What…? What happened?"

"A huge misunderstanding," Prompto said. "But it's fine now, I think. The kid got scared when he saw you with your weapons. Gighee just wanted to defend him."

"Yeah, I figured. But I had a reason. There was this weird ghost thing that came out of _nowhere_."

Jeez, the mysteries just kept piling on. "A ghost?"

"Yeah. It was… tall," Gladio could find no better word than that, and no better gesture than to raise a hand up over his own head to suggest the thing was yea-high.

He'd inadvertently given Christopher a sign that they had been on the same boat in terms of fear response, and the child nodded. "We didn't really see a ghost thing, but okay. I get why you had those weapons out now, Mister."

"Glad we could clarify that."

Prompto smiled and turned to Christopher. "Hey, you wanna go help the other big people in the Chocobo Post now?"

The boy gave a quick nod, said "Sure thing," and then ran with his companion down the forest.

The lack of Noct's presence didn't go unnoticed by his retainer. "Where's Noct? Is he hurt?"

Prompto fought off the strange twinge in his chest—even after all that, Ignis's priority was _Noct's _well-being—and thought of how best to answer the question. "He's…"

"Here," came the grumbled response. Noctis trudged out from the cover of the trees and shook out what cobwebs clung around in his head. He _looked_ better than someone would when they'd gotten hit upside the head repeatedly, though. Chances were he'd drank a Potion on his way back and an Ether for good measure. Once he was aware, he fired off a glare towards Prompto that would have pinned him like a dartboard if it could, with a recognition in his gaze that couldn't have existed alongside a Blind cast still in effect, but the sight of Gladio turned that simmering rage into a slack expression of awe.

"Gladio…?"

His Shield nodded. "It's me, yeah."

Years of the same move trained him for it; he braced himself for a warp-tackle that would knock him off his feet if he were caught unawares.

"Gladio, I thought you'd… that you'd…!" Noctis pressed his face close, and Gladio swept his fingers through the prince's hair to settle him.

Prompto sighed, equal parts relieved of the outcome and tired of the events that led to it. Supposed as long as Noct had a hardcore time-out and a living Shield, things would be fine. Still needed to work on his sense of priorities, though, but maybe that could wait for when emotions weren't as high. Maybe tomorrow, or something.

He looked to Ignis, and something was quick to get his attention. "Wait…"

"Mm? Wait for what?" Ignis looked at Prompto.

"Your glasses…"

"What of them?"

"Did you…?"

Ignis made a minor adjustment to a perfectly functioning pair of glasses that were sitting right before his eyes. "Of course. What self-respecting man doesn't have a spare?"

"…You're an ass, Iggy."

"I know."

"And what's the excuse for your hair?"

Ignis's hair no longer resembled that 'cockatiel' look that Prompto had compared it to before. His hair was down, and it looked messier, but in a purposeful way that suggested he swept his hair back with his fingers and teased it a bit.

"I figured it was time to innovate my look. What, is there a problem?"

"Yeah, _all_ the problems." Prompto would admit silently that the change was just what the doctor ordered, though. Unf.

Iggy had more 'important' things in mind, though. "These events have been rather… interesting," He mused. "The Gighee understands language and speaks non-verbally, then?"

"Huh? You mean Christopher?"

"Christopher? Is _that_ the proper name for it?"

"No, the Gighee's name is just 'Gighee'. Christopher's the little boy. Me and Gladio were talking to him, and then _he_ talks to Gighee if he needs to."

"A... boy?"

"Come on, Igs. There was no way you didn't hear him. Not to mention his footprints were on the ground, _next_ to the hoof marks, you kinda stepped right over them when you walked around…"

He recognized the way Ignis looked at him: _But I'm telling the truth._

He was. He hadn't seen a single trace of Christopher. Hadn't heard his voice either.

And there was something very, very wrong.


	8. Insomnia

**Chapter 8: Insomnia**

The Crown City of Insomnia had become a lonely place, as of late. The buildings may have towered high, but the hearts of its people were brought low. Subways and above-ground trains were bereft of their afternoon passengers. No stops were made in Academia or its various campuses. The swings in the city park creaked only from the force of whatever wind pulled their chains, and there wasn't so much as a stifled giggle of adolescent gossip, nor were there cheers in the arcades, or the din of idle chatter in the malls.

To devour the silence whole were the shouts and sobs from throngs of people that made the walkways they stood on thrum with anger. Waist-high barricades held them back, and servicemen dressed in the deep black of the Crownsguard ensured that the people both didn't approach the Citadel grounds and kept a civil distance between themselves and the procession of cars, but the imprecations couldn't be ignored.

The showing was inevitable; there _were_ those who disagreed with the means by which the Treaty came about, that thought the King callous or cowardly for the accession to the Imperials after years of not having done so, but the mass disappearance contorted and intensified what was already there, as each minute that passed convinced the people that the King cared little for their plight, or for the missing children.

The Princess of Tenebrae gazed out of the window of the car. "Surely, with so many of his people hurting, the King would show himself to ease their pain, give them hope?"

The Prince of Niflheim sat beside her. "It's as I've said; King Regis cares only for his own. Though, even _I_ didn't expect that his definition would become so narrow as to abandon even those _within_ his city." A faint note of intrigue was found in his words, as he brought his hand to his mouth in thought. "Could anything _else_ be expected of him, I wonder? This ordeal is only _another_ in the list of neglects he's committed. Those in the outlands have had to bear much of this while scrounging for their scraps of prosperity. Thirty years of it, ever since he was crowned. I can't consider that a coincidence."

A whisper of breath unsettled the stillness within the vehicle, and Princess Luna's fingers, soft and slender, closed around the pendant that hung from her neck. She shut her eyes, and remained that way for a few seconds. Prince Asterid could assume that she was either in deep thought, or prayer.

He continued to observe, and sensed that pursuing the topic of King Regis wouldn't end well. "Did you enjoy your stay near Galdin?"

She gave her assent to such, and regarded him with the deep blue of her gaze. "The view of the ocean was magnificent. I don't recall ever seeing water shimmer like diamonds."

He smiled. "Ah, so you _were_ looking in that direction. I feared your attention was fixed upon the desolate island. There isn't much to look at there."

He'd referred to that in far too simple a term. The place wasn't wholly empty. The look of the island held a legend in an ancient tongue, with its mysterious crystal spire and the ground around it struck with a heavy rain of glaives. He held ideas of the island's purpose in old times, based from texts of the ancient era, but … he couldn't help but wonder what drew _her_ attention to that place, Angelgard. Was she curious as well?

The former Kingdom of Tenebrae was barred from interaction with the Kingdom of Lucis for hundreds of years until recently, so only the gods would know if the Priestesses passed their knowledge of the eastern lands down to succeeding generations, and if such knowledge held true even in modern times. Then again, the tales didn't _need _to stay up-to-date. If she, like he, sought to learn of the island's origins, it mattered more how far into the _past_ she could search for answers. The gods … they knew of the past more intimately than they did the present.

The Priestess of Tenebrae, able to commune with the Six, to calm their rages, tame them. What secrets could they reveal for her?

The cavalcade got closer to the Citadel, the plaintive sounds from the crowd the only fanfare for the procession. Even the driver of their car was ill at ease; though he attempted to keep his eyes on the road and his cruiser a safe distance from the one up ahead, he stole glances to either side regardless, and allowed a frown to form on his lips.

He tried not to take the Prince and Princess's words to heart, though it would have been much easier if he couldn't understand either of them to begin with. But as his terrible luck or their good manners would have it, they chose to speak Somnian instead.

The Princess spoke in Standard form, though a few of the words she used were a little 'archaic', or at least older than she was, a quirk likely owed to her tutor. Regardless, whoever she had learned it from must have been fluent enough in the language themselves for that not to stand out too much, and she in turn combined that with the existing fluidity of her native Tenebraen and made Somnian sound even more elegant and soothing than he would hear coming out of another person's mouth. It was difficult _not _to listen to her.

The Prince was the same way, but where the Princess was tender and relaxed in her speech, he was straightforward, and a bit more firm. He didn't sound like a native either, though not in a harsh, unpleasant way; any other guy with half the stature and twice the pretensions would be right at home dropping a few vowels and speaking in clipped tones like every word was a bullet from a machine gun. However, the Prince of Niflheim spoke like a man experienced with speeches and unwilling to leave things to chance, so his words came out in a clear and measured tone that was easy to pick out.

The point being, when they were talking about the King, the driver couldn't ignore it. He would have laughed if he could; they probably didn't want to seem rude, or like they were leaving him out of the conversation. So he'd take that.

"The disappearance isn't anything the King or anyone else could have seen coming." His tone was restrained, betraying no emotion in favor of or against the crowd's protests or the man whose decisions they hurled their pejoratives about. "It may seem callous, but he has to be ready for the Imperials, and put that first. It'll be easier to figure this out without a war looming over both nations' heads."

Luna turned her attention to him, though the extent was limited by the rear view mirror. From what she glimpsed, he wore a flat-topped chauffeur's cap with an emblem of the Draconian front and center, and a half mask that let show only that his eyes were blue and that he had facial hair.

She understood the need for uniform, though found it rather depersonalizing. "Do you have family?"

"I do, yeah. A little brother, but, I mean, he's old now. He wouldn't be," the chauffeur gestured with a hand to finish his statement: his brother wouldn't have been young enough to be affected by the disappearance. "These people weren't so lucky." He sighed and muttered, "The King has his reasons."

"Does he really?" Asterid had sounded so far like someone too deep in thought to concern himself wholly with the present moment, but he let slip a note of inquisitiveness; that claim had caught enough of his attention to warrant that. "It was my understanding that a ruler serves his people, and cares for their children as he would his own, especially if he himself is a father."

"Does _yours_, Sir?"

"In my travels, I've not heard word that a child of the Empire has gone to bed hungry, cold, or even so much as _bored_. I take it that Father works exceedingly well, though I suppose there's a first time for everything. Some firsts take longer to arrive than others."

Just outside, the clamor had focused into laser points of remarks,

"_What point is securing peace for 'future generations' if we don't _have _future generations?_"

"_King Mors would never have allowed this to happen and stayed quiet about it!_"

"_A succession can't happen soon enough…_"

"_Those nobles, they must think children are like small pets! Replace them when they're gone and… and we won't notice the difference, is that it?_"

Luna couldn't deceive herself of this, even if she wanted to; it would provide only a shallow comfort to naively think that this wasn't the truth of how things were in Insomnia, or to excuse the King's silence with the extraordinary circumstance he was currently in the midst of. The measure of one's character was in how they faced adversity. Why now, did _he_ hide from it?

She could hear her dear brother's words; _only the King should pay for his cowardice_.

It would be difficult to ensure that, when all the city was his shield, willingly or not.

"Please, stop the car," she said aloud.

"We haven't reached the Citadel yet," the chauffeur protested.

"And the people have received nothing to reassure them. I cannot sit idly by and allow that to remain true."

The driver and Asterid both caught her tone, the same one of '_I __**must**_ _do something_' that couldn't be denied. The driver acquiesced and slowed the car to a stop, pressed the intermittent lights to signal the ones behind to wait.

"Thank you." She stepped out to meet the multitude.

For a moment, the intensity of the crowd grew with what they surmised was the presence of an Imperial, but they caught sight of who it really was when she emerged from under the cover of the one-way tinted windows and obsidian car doors. That realization rippled through the masses, and a hush fell over them, soon replaced by whispers,

"_Lady Lunafreya?_"

"_The Princess?_"

"_She's here? Right now? That can't be…_"

Even the Crownsguard turned around, distracted from their task of keeping the people back. They no longer needed to, as word spread, and onlookers even pulled out their phones to begin recording.

Lunafreya waited until it was certain that the crowd settled with the news of her presence.

"Today was meant to be a day of anticipation," she began, "of hope that suffering would abate with the end of the Four Hundred Years' War. But the events of earlier today have taken what dreams of peace were held, and twisted them into nightmares of loss. A new tragedy has risen to claim innocent lives, lives that we hoped would be the most safe from the ravages of conflict."

As she spoke, she could hear the grief clearly, acute and encompassing. It seemed to reach her from beyond the crowd that was there—it was a melancholy that emanated from the planet itself, from its core, and rose up from the ground beneath her feet in steady strokes like a heartbeat.

"To all of you, who have lost progeny or kin, I will not tell you all to refrain from mourning, nor that you refrain from feeling your anguish, as it is not my place. I cannot claim to bear the unique pain of this tragedy as fully as you do, but I feel this loss in my heart, and I understand what fears and uncertainty you hold for the future.

"I implore you instead, hold fast to hope. Hold this truth close to your heart, that the image of the childrens' smiles, the sound of their laughter, the moments you've shared, their joys and sorrows alike, they will not become echoes of the past. I vow upon my blood, upon my honor as Priestess, that I will do everything within my power to deliver the children back to your waiting arms. And be assured as well that just as I have listened to your pleas, so too will the King of Lucis hear them. I will go to the Citadel to speak with him. Your voices will not go ignored."

Both Asterid and the driver listened intently to her words, though the Prince thought this all a tad misguided on the Princess's part. Though her task did involve the aid of those less fortunate the way he saw it, it held best effect against the Plague. He'd not heard of the House Fleuret being able to allay maladies of the heart, such as what the vanishing spawned. Besides, the role of speaking to these people was best reserved for their native King, not the Princess of a far-off country. She took on the burdens of others too easily, and such eagerness needed to be rare, lest others catch on and saddle her with more. Her generosity would be troublesome.

Ah, well. She was already out there, and she had already made her vow, and thus had to be held to them. In comparison, it wouldn't do well for him to remain seated and not have a few words to share of his own. Chalk it up to the 'old fashioned' in him; after all, what would his mother think?

He allowed a coy smirk to grace his features, the kind that radiated the same soft glow as the first signs of daybreak through pale curtains. "It can't be helped," he said. He took his leave of the car, and was soon at the Princess's side. What apprehension one would expect of him was absent, though he looked upon a populace that made no secret that they held him and his kind in low regard.

"Citizens of Insomnia, I realize that the presence of the Empire within these walls has made you all tense, given so long a time that both sides have spent at war. There exist doubts that the peace will last. For the Empire's part in this, and the lives this has affected, I apologize."

Asterid bowed at the waist, and held it for a few seconds to convey the necessary level of contrition. With how sheltered and developed this city was compared to the outer lands, though, they likely hadn't been touched by true war in decades. No matter. He stood straight again and continued,

"As the Lady Lunafreya assures you of her intentions, I will do the same for mine. The age of war will end in this lifetime, and _all _generations henceforth will know peace. The Empire will use whatever means necessary to ensure that the children of Insomnia return, safe and sound."

There was an uneasy shift in the crowd that'd heard his words, a conflict in each mind with regard to whether or not to despise him. For every reason why, there was a reason why not: he was a foreigner, but he spoke their language; the Empire at war with the Kingdom made them enemies, but they held the land of Tenebrae within their fold; he couldn't be trusted, but the Princess trusted him enough to be seen with him. Their beloved Princess shared her space and time with an Imperial. She didn't _look _distressed by him. That must have meant _something_.

Yes, it _must_ have meant something.

So the crowd did the only thing that made sense; they talked to, or around, or over each other. Not as intensely as before, but it was as likely for traces of venom to spill from their tongues as it was for there to be softer questions, or wonders.

"_The King should be ashamed of himself now; foreigners come to our aid before he does…_"

"_So that's the Nif Prince, huh? … at least his speech isn't awful…_"

"_Does Lady Lunafreya mean to speak with the gods, too?_"

"_What can Niflheim do? With their machines—what could machines do that the Crystal can't?_"

"_Will Prince Noctis join them? If the King won't, maybe his son will do something?_"

The people were calmer now than before. Calm enough that the chauffeur rolled the window down to tell the royals, "If you _do_ intend on talking to King Regis, then we can't keep him waiting any longer!" And motioning for them to come back into the car. They'd held up the procession for long enough.

They did that, and Asterid waited until Lunafreya was settled into her seat before he went around to take his.

They continued the drive to the Citadel, and Asterid mused, "As I expected. You truly are beloved the world over, Princess."

"A surprise. I would have thought that the House Fleuret had long fallen out of favor with the lands of Lucis…" _given that we've not traveled these lands in centuries, _she finished in her thoughts.

"On the contrary, your good works have maintained their trust. Having started so young, as well…" he seemed to let the words trail away into the aether, before gathering a different line of thought to begin with. "I am sorry."

"You've no reason to be." She allowed those words stay where they were.

The ride went on in relative silence; the voices faded into the distance as they left the rest of the city behind on their way to the Citadel.

The building sat at the heart of Insomnia, with a mile of open space around it in every direction, as if the ground itself served to shield the fortress from the masses. It was a successful and visible ward, given the array of headstones.

Each of them were of equal size and spaces apart. Lunafreya caught sight of the Star of Lucis emblem at the top, and the name engraved below, the dates of birth and death, their number in the lineage. These were headstones for the Kings that didn't have their own tombs outside of Insomnia.

The car continued down the single path towards the Citadel itself. The construction of the building lent the impression that it was untouched by the passage of time, or that the flow had gone in reverse.

It flew in the face of their usual practices. Asterid studied enough to know of it. In this place, if so much as a single piece was found flawed in the construction of any establishment, the entire thing was dismantled—_all of it_, top to bottom, not a scrap left standing—and then it was rebuilt with no old pieces, nothing reused. House, office, it didn't matter. A flaw in the part meant weakness to the whole. Even if that single piece were replaced with a stronger one, even if the flaw were fixed to that one area, the corruption of its weakness would have already spread. To destroy and recreate was easier than improving what already existed.

_That_ was what they believed in.

But of course, not for _this_. This building, constructed from steel bones and bleach-stone flesh, that towered over all the others, that spied on the world through narrow clerestories, that wore the Crystal at its center like a brooch, was too _perfect _to be rebuilt. In a city made of metals and glass and parquet and plaster, with ramrod-straight buildings aligned to grids, slaves to unyielding order and the push for modernization, only the Citadel could stand looking so ancient in comparison.

It looked like a temple of worship. Proof of the gods. Built by better hands than those of mere mortals.

And to drive the point home, the only thing that could hope to reach the Citadel's height was the _Via ad Caelum_ resorts and hotels, just outside the Citadel grounds. It wasn't even close.

The road they were on ended with a driveway that encircled a statue of the Founder King in full armor. The statue stood at attention, with both hands resting on the pommel of his sword and the swordpoint to the ground.

Looked like the difference between _godly_ and _gaudy_ was non-existent. But Asterid put that out of mind.

A man waited at the foot of the Citadel steps, and wore a similar uniform to their driver. A replacement, most likely. The car stopped in front of the replacement, and both he and the driver worked to make the Prince and Princess's exit from the car as hassle-free as possible. The replacement took the car with him when he was finished.

Their driver remained with them. "Figured it'd be best practice to escort you both to the King myself."

"That is very generous of you," Luna said. "Kindly lead the way, Mister…?" The question curled up into a note of intrigue, as she realized she had no way to address him.

"You don't have to call me Mister, it's not…" the chauffeur weakly deflected the address with a wave of his hand.

"Then what am I to call you? What's your name?"

Asterid tilted his head and narrowed his eyes as if to discern something of the driver, while he awaited the answer himself.

"My name isn't all that important," the man said.

Luna looked disappointed, but more _for _him than _at _him.

Like the man said he would, he led them towards the throne room. Given the size of the Citadel itself, the distance would seem intimidating on foot to any other newcomers; first the gatehouse split into a hall that ran east to west. At each end of that hall were gates connecting to towers, and what parts of the towers dwarfed the already-tall gatehouse connected to each other with a series of skybridges every few stories.

Keeping those out of mind, a simple turn around the corner at the ground level would lead guests and residents alike down vaulted hallways, south to north. The halls wrapped around the open atrium where the Kingsglaive would usually train, and were built the exact same way on both sides; picking which one of them to go down was a mere matter of preference.

Another corner turn led to another east-west hall, the vestibule that provided another way out to the atrium or the sole way in to the main part of the Citadel. The throne room was set at the northmost part, but between there and the vestibule ran a long nave flanked with a gallery of paintings of the different, memorable kings. Like the hallways outside, the nave was built to near-symmetrical perfection; the paintings were the same on both sides, each copy facing its counterpart, perhaps so that no one could claim they missed looking at one on their way to see the King.

If that was the intent, then it worked; both the current guests were moved to observe each one, and they each took a side. Asterid went to the left, and Lunafreya the right.

Plaques were laid beneath the paintings depicting the Kings in the moment that earned their renown. And they were all nighttime scenes, from the looks of it.

Somnus, the Founder King, banished the Plague with the Ring of Radiant Light. The full moon was obscured by the clouds, and left the Ring as the most dramatic source of light. Somnus had his back to the viewer. To help the viewer insert themselves as subject and not so distant a spectator, perhaps? The High Priestess Stella wasn't in the painting, but the closeness to Somnus could place _her _as the eyes through which everyone else could glimpse at the rest of this scene. Hm… maybe.

Celsus, the Dynast King, had cut through swathes of beasts with his greatsword and cleared the lands for settlement. The full moon was much bigger in the painting, closer than it ever would be in reality, and completely bare. One would suppose the monsters depicted were meant to be daemons. One would also need to wonder why the patterns on the moon looked as otherworldly as the creatures.

( Luna looked at that painting, and the way she lifted her hand to her mouth in thought obscured the question she mouthed to herself. '_Is this where…?_' )

Archelaus, the Conqueror King, stood tall at the peak of a cliff, his halberd held high in triumph. The moon was further away and near the top of the painting, with just enough clouds to give it a halo. Archelaus stood silhouetted in its light, and then the legion of soldiers crowded the ground below, swords and standards raised in victory as well. The low angle of the painting set the viewer in the middle of the throng of soldiers, looking up at the King rather than standing with him.

Althea, the Merciful King, was the most prominent figure in her painting, and stood as a shield between the viewer and the people huddled behind her. The moon formed a halo around her head, and she dressed not in full armor but flowing pitch robes. She held her infamous royal shield in her right hand, while she held her left to her heart. An odd detail to have, but from her left wrist dangled a broken manacle. What was the history there?

The next painting was… even more peculiar than the one preceding it. There were two figures in it, and both sat at the edge of a vast sea, with their backs turned toward the viewer. The full moon in the distance perpetually hung a hair above the water. There was no grandiose moment here: instead, in the dark of the shoreline and that single source of light, the two figures… sat there. In silence. Though the one on the left seemed to have a more relaxed posture and was actually looking at the horizon, while the figure on the right had his head turned to the one on the left, watching him.

The plaque below the painting read: _The Twin Kings, Aerius and Cassus_. Though the name of _Aerius_ was crossed out and another scrawled in its place. It was illegible; no one thought of replacing the existing plaque with a more professional engraving bearing the proper name? That was almost as tragic as the fact that these two seemed to be the youngest crowned kings in the entire line.

Callidus, the Winged King, sat alone at a writing desk and labored over a text of his own invention. The moon's placement was the least interesting part of the shot, here. Outside of a window and hidden by the clouds, it attracted the eyes of no one and was there for tradition's sake. Instead, Callidus and his text were illuminated by firelight, and the top half of a skull served as a paperweight while he wrote. Upon closer inspection, the instrument he held was too sharp to be a pen, and the ink… went without saying.

Tacitus, the Demon King, wasn't so much of a demon in his painting. It was a deceptively simple depiction of the King leading a pilgrimage to Mount Ravatogh. The tales of old had it that Ifrit was put to rest there by the Draconian during the War of the Gods, never to return, but until it was 'verified' for certain, the people of Lucis were _afraid_ of calling Ifrit by name for fear of rousing him from deep slumber and invoking his ire.

Asterid supposed that the trip to the Mount had worked to dispel that fear; he didn't know a single person that exclusively referred to Ifrit by his bynames, anymore. The custom still held for the gods that were still alive, though. Their true names remained out of the mouths of mortals, save for those capable of summoning them. People could _think _of their names as much as they pleased, however.

Valerius, the Wanderer King, stood on an outcropping that overlooked a mist-laden land. It looked as if he was just about to begin his journey, to take that step forward into the unknown. His twin swords were combined into one and slung across his back, while a Coeurl rested beside him. Perhaps a hunting companion? Given his reputation for being a free spirit, his journey _would _be easier if he bridged that gap between man and beast and tamed a creature for his own.

Calypso, the Crouching Dragon King, had such a clever depiction for her moment that Callidus would turn in his grave from the purported theft of his moniker. The painting situated the viewer as the soon-to-be-slain great wyrm of old, and that vantage point allowed one to see the trajectory of King Calypso's Throwing Star — the visual of her Arm cutting through the air formed a crescent moon.

Pistis, the Holy King, was said to have worked hand in hand with the Priestess of his time. The next painting made that literal. He stood with Queen Delacier Cel Fleuret, and held his own Scepter away from the center of the shot. The honor of focal point belonged to the Priestess's Trident, which Queen and King both grasped while they held each other's gazes. The clouds in the sky of the painting were vaguely shaped into the gods, and the ground was covered in zealblossoms. The emphasis was definitely on the contributions and powers of the Priestess more than on the King himself. At least _someone _thought to give the Fleuret line credit, even if it was too late.

Optimus, the Wise King, was closer to modern times, judging by the depiction of Insomnia in the distance as a bustling city with winding highways and static towers not different than the ones just outside. This must have been when he created the Crystal Wall, then. Back when the protection extended to all of Lucis, and not just the million-plus in Insomnia. The Wise was flanked by soldiers in black suits and no weapons, to represent the formation of the Crownsguard as a defense force as opposed to active military.

Deianira, the War King, was a fast addition to the line. As Optimus's daughter, where he thought it wise to form a defense from his enemies, she thought it much wiser to intimidate their enemies with unparalleled force, that they not think to breach the paling. Story has it that she sought to secure the lands outside of the magic Wall so that the Crystal's protection could extend further, but that rumor was overshadowed by the subject matter of the painting; she encountered General Glauca of Niflheim during her travels and was content with trying to best him in battle, as his resilience and her fighting talent made them lifelong rivals. That death came for her when she was well into her senior years was an impressive feat, as her battles against Glauca would have put lesser warriors in their graves.

Last but not least was the final painting. King Regis, the 114th King of Lucis, stood at the top of a worn set of steps, surrounded by his Kingsglaive. His feat was granted visual form by the Crystal positioned behind him, and if one looked closely, the light of the Crystal was shown to bleed into the fissures in the concrete stairs. It resembled lightning, or a network of veins that connected him to the Glaives. What had earned him his place among the 'greats' of his line is that he shared his magic with these chosen few, granted them access to the Crystal's power.

Interesting. Who exactly were those connected to him?

Going counter-clockwise, Prince Noctis was included in the portrait and standing to Regis's right, just a step below. Of course he would be there; he inscribed himself into the ranks as soon as he came of age. Notable in that it wasn't mandatory and he could have skipped doing so entirely, being of royal blood. The people construed it as a publicity stunt at first, then the Prince had saved a fellow Glaive and risked his own life in the process. According to that story, he had almost _lost _his position in the Glaives for that, 'safety concerns' cited so that the King could protect his heir, but the Prince fought to stay in the group.

Asterid could see something of a kindred spirit in the Prince. Couldn't deny there was something respectable in one that used their title to help others and not hide from their duties to the rest of the world.

There were two other Glaives close to Noctis, further to his right and further down on the steps. Asterid identified the man as Libertus. He had a surname in common with Aurea Ostium, the late wife of King Regis. It _could_ make Libertus of noble birth, but the connection to nobility was solely by Aurea's marriage. The claim wouldn't exist if she were betrothed to anyone else.

The woman standing just in front of Libertus and Noctis was Crowe, an accomplished mage with no relation to anyone of note. Aside from the fact that her connection to magic came from the King, her power was her own.

Their closeness in the painting was no better way to show that they were the best of companions to each other.

There was another trio, too, standing at the lower left of the painting. Sonitus, Axis, and Tredd made a name for themselves as weapons experts. What they didn't have in magic skill they made up for in ingenuity and dedication to their mission, whatever it was.

A scattering of Glaives ran from there to the mid-lower left, people whom Asterid could only recall hearing brief snippets of: Emma and Elena were sisters, the elder of the two was expectedly no-nonsense and the younger was a tad overeager to prove herself and said things she shouldn't have; Alvis was a headstrong fighter with a crude way of speaking to everyone around him regardless of status; Ruluf was a cool and professional man that likely got along well with Emma if their similarities didn't get on the other's nerves; Freyra was a thrillseeker with a flair for the dramatic; and Judet was a more level-headed woman, though brusque given her background as a former soldier of fortune.

At the left of Regis, at the same step-height as Noctis and his companions, stood the Captain of the Kingsglaive, Titus Drautos. Luche stood to Titus's left. Those two, Asterid didn't need to remember the characters of. He knew them well enough.

He could have gazed at the painting for longer if it hadn't been for the clear of someone's throat. He turned around and spotted the driver on the other side of the hall, using the wall to support his back while he stood coolly with his arms crossed. "The real King is at the end of this hall. That is, if you _wanna_ see him in person." Needless to say, Lunafreya had gone on ahead, so the driver was only waiting for one person.

"Ah, yes. I apologize for my distraction." Asterid had the same auroral smile as before, and it remained there as they continued their trek, with the prince at Luna's left and the driver at her right.

The crossing that stood between the hall and the gates to the throne room had to have been purposely designed to test how much neck strain one could put up with. The transept was built to imitate the gatehouse at the front, height and connected towers and all. High above eye level and on either side of the crossing were five windows, depictions of the gods with various colors of stained glass. Not all of them, of course; the windows meant for Ifrit were just a series of shards in the color of fire, but no figure to represent the god himself, whereas the Hydraean was clearly a serpent, the Glacian a humanoid female, the Archaean a humanoid male, and so on.

The only other god missing was the Draconian, but Asterid could make an _excellent _guess as to where the God of Light was meant to be. The wrought-iron doors sat front and center of the crossing. It barred them from the chamber, and above it was a massive rose window—_only one_—that separated each depiction from its mirror on the other side, and was shaped **exactly** like the Star of Lucis emblem. But, you see, it was just a guess. He could be wrong about it, aside from the fact that he didn't think he was.

They moved on once they took in the sight. The aforementioned iron doors opened into the throne room seconds before any of them could actually make contact with it. _Automation, in this place? Interesting… _

Even then, what struck him about the chamber when he entered it, was that it was large for virtually no good reason. He noted the fluted columns, the undulating staircase that led to the throne itself, the gold decor around said throne, the gallery where the Royal Council would be seated were they present. Yes, he saw all of _that. _But the architecture to fulfill those functions seemed so _needless _compared to the standards to which the rest of Insomnia were held, the execution for outside structures prudent at best and miserly at worst.

There was a hot curl of _something _that sparked in the pit of him. He should have expected nothing more of the palace than a brazen waste of resources, had already heard and read and spoken of the King's actions and inactions, his vested focus in himself and those who would protect his interests. That the Prince could still _feel _something at the sight of it—he couldn't tell whether it was anger, or immense disappointment—was nothing short of fascinating.

Whatever it was reflected itself in a minor twitch to his smile. He wouldn't lose calm over this where anyone else could see it.

King Regis watched the three of them from his 'perch'. The severity of his gaze was unhampered by the suggestion of physical frailty in his use of a leg brace and the cane in his grasp, nor his greying hair and his wan face. He gave no hint that he was in the same _continent_ as the best of moods, and the sight of their approach didn't improve his disposition.

The three halted their advance at the foot of the stairs.

Regis's gaze landed upon the driver, who still stood at Lunafreya's right. The man didn't need to be told to do so; he lowered himself, and knelt with his legs tucked under his thighs in proper sitting position. He bowed his head and closed his eyes, and his hands met palm-with-palm as if in prayer.

The King of Lucis's gaze went to the Prince of Niflheim next, though they didn't make eye contact, for Asterid had his eyes on the driver instead, too captivated by the show of obeisance to pay attention to who was in front of him. But the newcomer realized there were eyes on him soon enough, and gathered to himself that air of placidity that usually wrapped around his words.

"Hail, and well met, Your Majesty," Asterid began, and he bowed at the waist, though not as deeply as he had to the public. "I'm terribly honored to be in your presence. If you would permit me to, humbly, introduce myself—"

"Spare me your mealy-mouthed words, _boy_."

Asterid was stunned enough that he halted on demand, and lifted his head up to regard his senior.

Disdain was etched into each wrinkle on King Regis's face. "You speak of humility and know **nothing** of it." A not-insignificant amount of venom coated his words, that had built over the past day or more. "You utter your blasphemies and simper like a fool, and what thoughts have ever crossed your mind are thoughts your father _allows_ you to have."

Asterid said nothing, only followed the King's hand as he gestured toward the driver.

"Since you were so _interested, _you will show your humility properly, as he does," Regis said.

That particular bullet struck, and Asterid spared a glance toward the masked man before soon mimicking his prostration. Thankful was he that his head was bowed; it would have been difficult to explain his murmured words, '_You could have covered your ears, wretched old man…_'

The only sign that Regis was satisfied at the display was that his scowl had upgraded into an unimpressed frown. And finally, _finally, _his gaze fell upon Princess Lunafreya. Though if he expected her to do the same as the others, he expected wrong, for she strode forward and climbed each step. She stopped at the landing halfway to the throne.

Silence hung over the room like a shroud and deafened them even to what activity was outside. Time stretched into a meaningless thread of seconds, and minutes slinked past the notice of anyone there.

"You are here after all." The king pulled the shroud away and time gained coherence again.

"I am," the princess replied.

"Of all the ridiculous stipulations placed upon me by the Empire, that I bear your presence was not one of them. You will leave to Altissia as soon as you depart from my sight."

She shook her head. "You are correct in that the Empire did not dictate that I stand before you. Nonetheless, I do so of my own volition. I go where there is need of me."

"Neither I nor Insomnia need you," he uttered.

"The people have decided otherwise. Their plight far surpasses yours."

"_Plight?_ Plight exists _beyond_ the Wall. The people within this City have lived a comfortable existence, protected from the night's horrors for centuries. I see now that the line of Kings has _coddled_ them, so eager are they to cry at the slightest inconvenience like petulant children."

"Rare is the child that cries when its needs are met. It is not sustenance that you've granted them, but distractions and neglect, and they have seen it for what it is."

"Yet they are _blind._ It is through the charity of the God of Light that humans are allowed what they have. When the people feared the darkness and sought protection, did the Draconian not impart the Star's hallowed light onto two dynasties, that the plague be purged from the world? The Founder fulfilled his Calling, and we Kings have protected the sacred stone thenceforth. The people have '_need_' of nothing, only wants, to sate their boredom. You and they know not of what that has cost the House Caelum."

"You talk of sacrifice for the sake of the people? You've performed no such thing. You've covered your ears to their cries and hardened your heart to the loss of the city's children. Do you not fear the people, were they to hear your scorn?"

"I fear nothing else but God, as it should be."

In the midst of aspersions cast by King Regis, Asterid held in mind Lunafreya's words. She would go where she was needed, and said in her own words that she would be here for Prince Noctis… were it for reasons related to marriage, she would have said that outright, wouldn't she?

He took sight of their driver who remained in the same position as before. As if sensing someone's gaze on him, the man returned the look. Asterid acknowledged that with a nod. It made sense now. _This fulsome display doesn't suit either of us_.

He was the first to abandon his pose and plant his feet on solid ground. He motioned for the masked man to do the same—though he had a distinct feeling that it wasn't necessary—then turned his attention to the Princess and the King. "If I may be permitted to speak?"

The resounding tap of the King's cane to the floor said otherwise. "You will hold your tongue, _child_."

Said 'child' was not moved. "I was asking the Lady."

Rage set upon the wrinkles on King Regis's brow, and in the grit of his teeth. He'd have likely raised his hackles if he had them.

The Lady paid his expression no mind, and one could even detect a hint of a smile in her words; "You may."

Asterid nodded to her, "Thank you," and then looked to Regis. "Now, with all due respect, Your Majesty, which I'm safe to say you've earned very little of… you _should _fear your people, given that you remain on your throne only due to _their_ charity—their tolerance and hope, to be more exact. Though, be assured that with every moment you spurn your duty to them, their favor for you wanes."

A King being subservient to his people? Fearing them? Thoughts of an impotent dotard. _This brat parrots his father,_ Regis thought. He could never relate to being so _weak. _He drummed his fingers upon the arm of his throne while Asterid continued to speak.

"Undoubtedly, there's word spreading that the public desires Prince Noctis on the throne. What do you say to that?"

There were twitches to Regis's mouth as if he narrowly avoided saying something unpleasant, though it's not like politeness had halted his words before. His drumming stopped for a second as he relaxed his fingers and opened his hand. "He will ascend when the gods will it, and no sooner."

No response at first. The Lucian King could even be deceived into thinking that the conversation was over, that the Imperial Prince understood his betters, _for once_.

That was not the case. "You wait for the gods? The gods sleep without a care for the world. They've slept for millennia already, and they can sleep for millennia more without ever making that judgment. It was not _their_ will that dictated who would rule the throne for hundreds of successions. They're far from entitled to decide who succeeds now. It's almost _brave _of you, to assume they could care that much."

Regis had heard _enough_ of the brat's heresies. But the spell that sifted through his fingers that he cast earlier, he felt that spell return to him. He relaxed his hand and allowed the magic to leave once more.

Asterid took that quiet for an opportunity to muse aloud. "Then again, that _is_ the peculiar thing concerning the gods, no? We can't predict them. They're fickle, like the elements they represent. They _could_ awaken soon if not right now, and choose the Prince as rightful king… _then _what would you do?"

Regis again felt the spell coil back around his fingers. What in the world was happening? Why was the spell coming back?

The brat of an Imperial had the _nerve_ to tilt his head as if he had been waiting too long for an answer to the question.

The King willed contempt back to his features so that no surprise would show there instead. "Renounce the throne, as expected of me."

"Interesting…"

Regis found it was nothing like that. "This is enough talk. You will leave now. _All_ of you." At that, his gaze went to the man at the right of the room. The man had stood up minutes prior. He hadn't spoken a word in all that time. Their gazes didn't meet now.

"Not just yet, Your Grace," Lunafreya said. "I still must speak with you of another matter. Are you so pressed for time that you would be unwilling to allow a girl to reminisce of her childhood?" She looked over her shoulder. "The others may stay to listen if they wish, though it might bore them."

By that, she meant they had to leave _that instant_. The driver and Asterid took note of her words, and bid their leave.

The throne room's doors were, in fact, automated. Asterid looked for any equipment that could pass as a sensor, but again there was a twinge of _something _in his stomach_. _He wasn't sure what it was anymore. Only that he _wished_ it were a machine lifelessly taking note of entries and exits to the room.

But he waited until they cleared the detection radius of the doors and they shut again, to speak of something else.

"You must have tremendous faith in her."

The driver scoffed. "What, and you don't?"

"Oh, I do. But were I in your place, I'd have second thoughts about leaving her alone with that bellycrawler you call your father. Does he always make you do that? Kneel before him as if he were the God of Light made flesh?"

There was a harsh whisper of air being sucked in through gritted teeth, and Noctis briefly took his mask off to pinch at the bridge of his nose.

Asterid shook his head. "Well, what's done is done. You want him to change his stance as much as anyone else, and you have faith that the Lady can speak sense into him. And she will; the Priestess may open the heavens' doors for the King, but she could just as well bar his path to it for eternity. I'm sure _he's_ aware of that."

"... Yeah."

_He had to be truly desperate, to solicit the Priestess for help, _Asterid thought. "It must be difficult."

"What is?"

"Being a noble that cares, yet powerless to show it. You lack the means to change the system from within, yet you won't change your situation. At least, not in a way that will compromise your character. You're too good a man to travel the tempting route of treachery." He smiled. "You've read the treaty, haven't you?"

"I have." Noctis said nothing of the rest of that.

"Then you know what we're doing is right. The lands outside of Insomnia will be treated as they should. Galahd will have a place _at _the table, not beneath it. And speak with its own voice, the way it was meant to."

"How do I know I can trust your Empire?"

"Please. It's not 'my' Empire yet. But since you're asking _me, _I would say, you can trust Niflheim by the fact that we proposed this treaty first. Your father had decades to do the same and didn't. I can't fathom why."

"Hm."

"… Are you conflicted?"

Prince Noctis averted his gaze. Was he? The treaty called for a formation of a Pan-National Committee that'd concern itself with long term maintenance of people's safety, even beyond the end of the war and eradication of the Plague and the daemons. Lucis would have fifteen representatives: five for Insomnia alone, five for Galahd, and five for the combined regions of Cleigne, Duscae, and Leide. The Empire would have its own fifteen, split between Tenebrae, the rest of Niflheim, and Accordo.

He would be at his father's side and represent Insomnia, but he couldn't deny that he cared for Galahd too. There was a connection there that he had difficulty accepting in full, at times. After what happened ten years ago, he needed to be sure that its people would be safe, and the country as prosperous as Insomnia. He couldn't fail them like he had before.

Then again, Galahd wasn't _entirely_ bereft of advocates even without him. If Captain Drautos were part of the Committee, the fact that he was a native would work more in his favor. He was more knowledgeable of the people's needs. The connection Crowe had to her own home village went without saying. She could be the second-in-command, and they would have three more people aside from them. As long as it worked out, and Galahd had its long-sought-for peace, it didn't matter whether he could use that opportunity to feel better about himself.

"I'm not. The choice won't be hard. It'll hardly be there," he said, and put his mask back on. "This is for the best."

"If the King can be convinced to see virtue in others instead of treason, then yes, it will be."

The gates opened again, and Luna emerged from the throne room with a smile that was almost beatific. "Memories of the past are a wonderful thing, aren't they?"

Asterid shrugged. He wouldn't know what to say aloud that wasn't already known. His childhood memories were a strange haze of impressions of uncertainty and solitude. He'd let the driver answer the question himself.

The driver shook his head. "Didn't have much to wonder about before my brother came into the picture. I… _guess _we had some good times. I'd have to ask him. We don't see each other much anymore."

The mention of his family brought a hint of sadness to her smile. "I'm terribly sorry to ask this of you when you likely should be heading elsewhere…"

"Don't apologize, Princess. I'm here to help."

She nodded in understanding. "Then, I wish to meet the Kingsglaive. Prince Noctis is a part of their squadron, I've heard."

The driver gave Lunafreya a quick nod. "I know where they're stationed. I can escort you to them."

"Thank you, you are kind."

_Really? He's going to keep her waiting? _Asterid couldn't help the hum of amusement, but said nothing more as the driver lead them away from the throne room and to their right, to the northwest spire of the Citadel. Its lower levels were inhabited by the Kingsglaive, with the exception of Noctis, whose chamber was on a higher floor.

Asterid kept himself a few paces behind, for entertainment's sake, and watched the other two. He didn't wonder what the motivation was for one to keep such a low profile that they would disguise themselves. Fame was a stifling thing, at times, and acted as a vortex on the capacity for true bonds. Still, to test others' tolerance for deception was generally a bad idea, especially when they were there to see the specific person that was currently tricking them.

They were midway to the end of the overlong hall and under the window of the Fulgurian, when Asterid tossed a question into the air like an unpinned grenade. "What _do _you know about Prince Noctis, Lady Lunafreya?"

The tension drew a line down the driver's spine. Luna had turned around to answer too quickly to notice it. "Not much, I'm afraid. Only that he's a kind man, with a brave heart, and incredible resolve. The people of Galahd call him 'Hero' with utmost affection."

"I've heard from a reliable source that _he's _the one who responded to the events in Caradoc a decade ago, when his father proved slow to intervene." It was difficult for Asterid to keep the smile away from his face. "Of course, it hasn't been proven for certain, short of asking the people who were there during the event, but the story explains that nickname well, don't you think?"

"Yes, I think it does."

"He didn't do enough."

The chauffeur's voice came as a surprise, stopping theirs dead quiet. They'd all stopped under the window of the Infernian.

"King Regis was too slow, and so was his son," the man said, his voice acrid. "After what happened a year before that, they should've known better than to let red tape get in the way of saving people."

Though Luna couldn't see the man's face from where she was standing, the tension that radiated from his shoulders told her enough. She supposed there was a reason why he only named his _brother_ as family when she asked.

"Be that as it may, he _was_ there for them, correct?"

"Yeah, he _was_, but—"

Fingers closed around his, just as he thought of curling his hand into a fist. The warmth made him pause, and his gaze flit to the Priestess before drawing away.

"I sense your frustration toward him, and I wish not to make light of it," she said. "However, if he at all resembles the tales people have told of him, then he, too, is haunted by the lives he couldn't save. They are reason enough why he would work ever harder to ensure no one else suffers the same way."

"He, _too…?_" The man echoed the odd wording.

She didn't answer yet, and opted to close her other hand atop his. Her next breath was slow, held for a few seconds as she considered her words. "This city remains faithful to him. The people of Galahd hold goodwill for him in their hearts. Neither of those things would be true if they thought him a failure. I do not expect that you change your opinion of him so soon, only through my words, or because others disagree with you, but…" she let the words trail away, at a loss for how to conclude.

"No, I understand what you're saying…" he said. When they made eye contact, she could note that his gaze was warm, his eyes bleary. He felt a smidgen more relaxed than before. "He saved as many people as he could, and it's better than nothing, right…? A lot more people would've died if he'd taken no action at all."

She nodded. "If you'd like, I could speak to him on your behalf," she offered.

"It's fine. It's fine, I don't," he shook his head. "I don't need that."

She let slip a soft '_Ah,_' of understanding, and loosened her hold on his hand.

He held on tighter in turn. He had shown too much of himself with that, to keep playing at this any longer.

"Look, before we keep going, there's…" he sighed, the sound alone encapsulating the frustration he held in trying to get his words across now. The gesture he made with his free hand said he was tired of his _own _stalling and wanted himself to hurry up and get to the point. There was no better way to do it than by removing his mask first and stowing it away, then pulling off his cap and letting the braids fall down to his shoulders.

Recognition settled in, and Luna did nothing else but stare. To her credit, even her most dazed look had more charm to it than the average person.

"This is a detail I was not aware of and did not see coming at all," Asterid said in a tone that was much too smug to be convincing. The double set of glares directed his way did nothing to take away his grin. "Practicing being a couple, already? Adorable."

"Do you always do that?" Lunafreya asked.

"Mm? Do what?"

"_Provoke _people with your words."

"It's not always, no," Asterid admitted. "But whenever I do, it feels satisfying. As if I were fulfilling one of my life's purposes."

"Only _one_ of them?" Noctis raised an eyebrow at that.

"Yes, it's quite possible to have more than one. I've heard it keeps a person young." Asterid motioned toward the gate of the northwest spire, and stepped around them to head in that direction. "Going to excuse myself now, I'm loath to be a third wheel."

"You're more of a thorn in the side," Lunafreya said, her voice a mite annoyed.

"And I'm off to find my rose," he countered, then turned on his heels and sauntered off.

Noctis and Lunafreya waited until he was long out of earshot before they said anything. Or at least, tried to. Their words staggered out of their mouths and stumbled over each other, as Noctis apologized and Luna gave reasons not to do so.

After a while of that, he suggested, "Can we start over?"

"Yes, that would be nice."

"So, do you start first? Do I start? Actually, you go first, it's… yeah."

"I understand."

She allowed silence to play spectator for a bit.

"Good afternoon, Prince Noctis. I am Lunafreya of Tenebrae. It's—" the silliness of the situation settled into her in suppressed fits of laughter, "it's nice to meet you, after all this time…"

The laughter caught on with him too. "It's nice to meet you too, Lunafreya. I'm Noctis, from…" he gestured to the space around them. "I'd say I'm 'from Lucis', but I'm sure you heard _that_ guy." Noct gestured in the general direction of their Imperial company. "Lucis is a big place and the royalty doesn't give enough of a damn about all of it, so I'll just say I'm 'from Insomnia' and leave it at that."

"Yes. That'd work."

In all that time, they didn't let go of each other. Their gazes landed on their joined hands, and they didn't allow that sight to scare them apart.

"I'm glad you're here," he said. "I'm sorry about it not being under better circumstances."

"Again, there is no need to apologize. We're together now, and it's my hope that we can stop the circumstances from becoming worse than they are."

"Save as many lives as we can." The warmth she exuded made him believe it was possible. Yet there was still a thought that plagued him. "Luna… I can call you that, right?"

"Yes? … and, yes." The way he said her name, it sounded very 'at home'. Comfortable, for both of them. She reinforced her answer with a nod.

His smile was only half-there, for what he would say next. "What you said… it's true. Sometimes I could hear them like they were standing right next to me. But, how would you know about that?"

Her gaze lowered. "It is my duty to travel to those who suffer from the Plague when I am able. To heal them, and restore strength to those too bedridden to come to me on their own. But even with the power I have, there are times when … there are times when there is not _enough_ time."

He found it interesting, in a strange way. Anyone else would mention that there were too many people sick. Or that they were only one person and needed more help. Something that would shift the blame away. But no, her concern was _time. _Like she just needed to whittle away ever more of her peace of mind and personal life, sleep less, skip a meal or three, and those minutes or hours would add up to the time she'd have better spent healing one more person. So she carried that with her.

He wondered what she had gone through to hear the voices as he did. He knew that the dead started to whisper in his ears ever since he'd saved Libertus and nearly died trying. He used to mistake it for the wind until he found he could make out words in the noise. But when all he did was save the life of his friend, they were manageable.

Over a decade ago, a disgruntled Imperial attacked the Galahdian villages of Kay and Guinever and Kelemon, and held their people hostage in exchange for the lives of Lucian nobles. Noctis learned of the breakdown in negotiations and the failed rescue before Marshal Leonis had come to deliver the bad news. The dead wept of it. How it wasn't fair to them. How little worth their lives had in the end, compared to the nobles in the Crown City. The voices faded over time; perhaps they moved on to their next life in the hopes that they'd be reborn in the lands of someone less callous.

When daemons ravaged Caradoc not long after, there was a new wave of hate for his father, lamentations of the lost, and families that had been torn apart and sought their missing loved ones. Their calls resounded in his ears, and some were more insistent than others. Even now, when the voices were just whispers again, there were two in particular that were looking for someone. Someone that in his heart of hearts, he should have known about. He tried to remember who that was, at least to answer the voices and help them find their rest.

No one else knew that this was happening, though. He didn't know who to confide in, so he chose no one at all. He trusted Libertus and Crowe as friends, he even trusted Captain Drautos, but they would mean _too _well. They'd want to see him get help, but that'd just mean word would get around, and he couldn't afford anyone else hearing of it. Especially not his father. The King could sense weakness like blood in the water, and the press would be more vicious yet. Hearing the dead? Haunted by them? It would have him declared mentally unwell, except he wouldn't be treated for that even if it _was_ just in his own head. Declared unfit to rule, removed from the chance at succession, and… gods, who'd be next? His brother, who wasn't raised into this at all?

That wouldn't happen. It _couldn't,_ because Noctis was fine. His brother wouldn't be burdened with a job he wasn't raised for, just because his older brother couldn't handle a little guilt.

"I had a question I wanted to ask…"

"What is it?"

"Do the voices…? I know they get quieter, or louder, but do they ever stop?"

She shook her head and mouthed, '_No._'

A soft and hollow laugh escaped him. "I thought not."

* * *

There was a love of open spaces that had apparently gone unaddressed by the existence of the atrium at the south of the Citadel. This was a lesser version of that; the common area had considerable vertical space, but was closed with a roof which undoubtedly served as foundation to the floor of a higher level. The spire itself was tall enough to warrant that.

As for stairs, there weren't any. The area was built with the clear expectation that whoever navigated it would have the ability to warp to a higher floor at will. Asterid would hazard a guess that the other spires in the Citadel were built that way as well. It was an interesting way to separate residents and guests from intruders, if such a thing were so clear cut into a matter of have and have not.

The ground level had furniture and a bar, but not all of the Kingsglaive were lounging around on the ground floor. Asterid spotted Axis content with a book, flipping through its pages and not paying anyone else any mind. Tredd was talking to someone else on the second floor, likely Sonitus. Crowe was on the second floor but clear across on the other end from the previous two Glaives. She was either looking directly at the Imperial Prince, or in his general direction, and he wouldn't test which of those options it was, and so averted his gaze. There were more Glaives than that, and Libertus was at ground level and sharing a table with Luche with some cards strewn in the space between them, but Asterid had sought someone in specific.

Captain Drautos was at the far end of the common room, nursing a can of coffee. His back was turned to everyone else. Asterid caught sight of that and strode over to him. All the other Glaives save one in particular had paid him no mind as he approached.

Titus wasn't in the mood for bowing at the sight of the Imperial, but he raised his can in salutation. "Prince Asterid."

Asterid took a seat beside him. "Please, no titles. We'll soon address each other as equals. Best start now."

Even with the scars that lined the captain's face and asked that he permanently resign himself to a scowl, he managed a smile. "Very well, then."

"I mean this." Asterid placed his hand on Titus's shoulder as one did a compatriot. The winter's wind came back to his voice as he spoke, though not in the tongues known to greater Lucis. "The treaty couldn't be perfected without your contributions. Your work _will_ be rewarded, I promise you that."

The captain nodded, and looked around at the rest of the room. Noctis's friends were still here. As were Luche, Axis, Tredd, Freyra, Judet, and Sonitus. He answered Asterid in the same Imperial speech, "What you've done for us is much more. I still feel indebted to you."

"The debt isn't yours to pay. Not with the old man where he is. It's about time to retire him permanently." Asterid shrugged, as if the matter were no big deal. "He's a parasite, but he deludes himself into thinking his blood will save him. We could spill every last drop from his veins and it would do nothing to sate the Potestate's thirst. He is no one special."

There would have been more, but heads turned at the sound of the gate opening again. Noctis stepped in with Lunafreya, and a few impressed whistles were thrown in his direction.

The upcoming wedding between the Prince and Princess was no secret, but it didn't mean they had to keep rubbing it in any chance they got. Even so, and predictably so, Tredd was still within range to be _that guy_ and **loudly **suggest something about a bachelor party that got any Glaives within earshot laughing.

Luna took that opportunity to excuse herself from Noctis's side to go elsewhere in the common room, and Noctis took the opportunity provided by Luna's exit to answer Tredd with a gesture that more or less told that guy to take that idea and shove it where it wouldn't fit. Tredd flipped him off, and got back to talking to Sonitus about something or other.

Libertus had long left his card game, and walked toward Noctis. "Man, don't listen to him," he said, and gave Noct's shoulder a quick clap. "If you ask me, it's about time you left the bachelor life behind. And there's no better reason than world peace."

"No offense taken. And, yeah, I… I guess you're right." Noct's gaze traveled the walls of the room, and he saw the Nif Prince talking to the Captain. He couldn't recall the last time he saw Drautos in a state that could remotely fit the word 'relaxed'. Asterid must have wheedled his way under the man's guarded demeanor somehow; he probably saw things like that as a matter of when and not if. The fact that he was mixing a drink as he spoke to the Captain probably helped with that.

"Man, wish I were a fly on that wall," Libertus said.

"They're probably talking about the treaty." Judging from the body language, the topic was something to be pleased with.

"Must be. Exciting, right? Galahd'll be ours again," The grin was obvious on his friend's face.

"Yeah…"

"You're worried, huh?"

"What, expecting me not to be?"

"Look, everything is gonna be fine. It's just some paper that needs to be signed, that's all. Everybody important knows what's on it. I mean, did _you _read some kinda Nif trick in the fine print?"

"... No, I didn't." He honestly didn't know which side he had to worry about more. He could only glean impressions, suspicions, from the dead.

"Let's take your mind off that, alright? Some good news: Crowe's in better shape than she's ever been. No episodes in the past, what, couple of days?"

Noctis gave his friend a look as if asking, '_What kind of "good news" is that?_' "They've still been happening too often."

The weakening bond of the King's magic manifested differently depending on the Glaive. Some people had trouble warping, others left conspicuous ripples of energy in the air when they wanted to simply use a Vanish spell. With Crowe, it was more troublesome, and started a few months ago. Sure, she hadn't had the issue for a week or so now—and Noctis _was_ thankful for that—but the last time it happened, she'd felt like her chest was being constricted, and like her limbs weren't her own. It usually went away on its own, but there was always the question of when it'd come back.

"You gotta trust her," Libertus said. "She can handle herself. She's a superhero!"

"Not doubting that," Noctis conceded, but he, the both of them in fact, had enough experience to know that the worst could happen with no regard to how good anyone felt about others or about themselves.

"You'd better not. Check 'er out." Libertus gestured in the direction of the second floor, where Crowe was in the middle of a conversation with Luna. That alone was a testament to her skill. To warp by oneself was difficult enough, but she managed to carry herself and an extra person with neither of them getting sick from it afterward. So maybe this _was_ a better day for her than most.

Noctis wished he could unmoor himself from his worries and live in blissful ignorance of everything. Never have to heed the whispers in his ears or the twinge in his chest that told him that things would take an awful turn, that those he cared for would be in danger, and that he'd fail them in the end. But he couldn't have that escape. All he could hold onto was his trust in other people. Hold onto hope, as Luna said.

He'd do that, and thank the gods that his little brother didn't have to go through any of this.

* * *

"Have you been enjoying it so far here? I mean, out of lack of better terms," Crowe asked.

Luna cast a sad smile. "I ought to say yes, but it would seem as if I'm taking everything lightly. Insomnia remains in turmoil just outside of these walls."

"If you let yourself feel guilty about that, you'll feel it for your whole life. Addressing the city is the King's job, not yours. You're a guest while you're here." Crowe's gaze flitted from Libertus to Noctis, and followed the latter as they sat down at the table with Luche to pick up where they left off on the card game. Libertus looked like he was grilling the other Glaive on whether he took a peek at the cards while he was on his lonesome, and Noct just looked… conflicted. Trying to relax and not getting it.

"He wishes he could do that, sometimes," she said of him, "but everyone knows the reigning monarch is the one with the actual power to do anything. With the Ring, and the Crystal… Noctis won't have any of it unless King Regis gave it up himself. Or…" she made a vague motion with her hand to fill in the more likely alternate option that'd result in Regis passing on his power.

"As it stands, the King has power and no compassion. His heart has closed off in these past years," Luna said.

"That's the strangest thing, isn't it. Aside from the back-to-back bullshit Galahd went through, it's been quiet since then. If anything, he should be more open with people. With his own people, at least."

"He should. I've had words with him, but only time will tell if those words reach."

"It'd better. I can't imagine anyone more convincing."

"Thank you. I am honored by your faith in me."

"The honor's all mine. Mm, excuse me for a minute—" Crowe paused to hook her fingers to the corners of her mouth and whistle for Libertus's attention. When he looked up, a quick break from part two of his interrogation of Luche thanks to a suspicious win in the game, Crowe ended further questioning with a simple sign of '_He didn't cheat_'.

She watched Luche; aside from a bored surf of the internet to read news he'd already gotten that morning, he rested his chin on his hands and waited for Libertus to finish talking and come back. Her taking his side in the matter surprisingly put Libertus at ease, and Luche gave her a thumbs up in thanks.

That her whistle had gotten Noctis to look up wasn't an accident either. To him, she signed '_Chin up. Eyes forward. None of that sulking._' That got him to laugh, a genuine one that reached his eyes. It wasn't an instant fix for whatever plagued him, but it'd do for now. He was one of those types that couldn't have a good time if other people were having a bad one out in the world, even if those two events were unrelated. Sounded _real_ familiar.

"Anyway," Crowe said, pulling back from that detour and addressing Luna once more, "I should be thanking you. You've done a lot more than you think you have." She held the red gemstone with the tips of her thumb and forefinger, and smiled fondly. "It's not as bad as it was before I had this."

At that, Luna allowed her gaze to drift to the stone. as well, and she cast its owner a warm smile. "Is he behaving?"

Crowe laughed. "If you can call it that. He's had his good days. Forgets his manners and likes to eat jam right out of the jar, though."

"Oh, that's unfortunate… he is fond of Ulvar berries, if that helps."

"They're rare here, but I'll keep that in mind." Her gaze locked onto Prince Asterid and Captain Drautos, who were still in conversation with each other; Asterid even had a drink in his hand. Chances were he'd already talked at length to Noctis and Luna about the treaty. The envoy from Niflheim brought a copy for the King and the Prince to read; the original would be present at the actual signing and no sooner. But the text had to be the same to all parties; it even said copies were held in Accordo and Tenebrae.

With the text known to the people he could talk to, it'd make sense he would gravitate towards someone else with authority and bring it up with them. The man sounded adamant in his interview that Lucians weren't his enemies, but just 'misguided', or with a different opinion. He saw himself as a 'guide', the more 'reasonable' party.

Well, she'd never heard of a royal that _didn't _have too high an opinion of themselves. Except for Noctis, anyway.

( Asterid set his glass down. "If worse comes to worst, I'll have one of my father's men do the deed."

"You're _joking_."

"Do I look the fool to you, with a cap and bells, twirling a marotte?"

Titus wasn't sure of how to answer; that the Prince could be so cavalier with the idea seemed as unconscionable as the fact that he'd never had bodyguards. It wasn't something one just _admitted _to doing or not doing.

"You should have listened to them out there," Asterid continued. "The people _long _for Regis to leave the throne. But your precious Prince Noctis," he gestured briefly with a tilt of his head, "won't take it himself. We give the people what they want, and he gets what he needs with his conscience clean."

"The Crown City would be missing a representative."

"We have provisions for that. The Committee is required to have a level of organization that a loss of one or two people won't hamper its operations. Besides…" He looked up to the second floor, and caught the attention of the Priestess and her friend. He smiled cordially and raised his glass to them as if a toast, then continued his thread. "The Prince wouldn't be alone."

Titus caught on to what the prince meant. "Then _Tenebrae_ would be missing a representative."

"Would it really? Ah, if only we had someone of our own fill that spot…" He took a sip of his drink, and let the implication settle in. )

A suited councilman arrived to the common area. "I have word for Princess Fleuret, Prince Aldercapt, Prince Caelum, and Captain Drautos!"

The four named stopped what they were doing and approached the councilman, give or take a warp-assist to get there. The other Glaives had paused and watched, as if just laying eyes on the five-person huddle would give them all the information that they needed. All they would see were mouths moving, nods of the head, brief flashes of concern. The councilman left after that.

Noctis went back to his table without a word, and the way he slumped into his seat caught Libertus's attention in an instant.

"So…?" Libertus leaned in.

"Looks like he's seen a ghost," Luche commented.

Noctis shook his head. "The treaty signing, it's scheduled for tomorrow."

Libertus slapped his hand on the table. "That's a good thing! … Right?" He looked over to the other Glaive for confirmation.

Luche merely shrugged. "Wouldn't know what to tell you, I'm not an official." He fanned his cards in front of his face and left his answer at that.

"You're no help."

Meanwhile, Lunafreya and Asterid remained where they were, while Drautos went to pass the news on to the other Kingsglaive.

"You spoke with the Captain," Luna said.

"I did. A surprisingly riveting talk, all things considered," Asterid said.

"Oh? What about, if you don't mind me asking?"

"Why, it started off on the subject of the treaty…" he added a note of tired predictability to the words, as if everyone could have guessed at that, were they given the chance, "but then it careened off into the rest of my life. How thankful my father is that there wasn't something in the negotiations about _me _getting married."

"Ah, yes, no grandchildren…"

"I'm sure he wouldn't _entirely_ object to the idea, if there were some magical method to skip the early stages and have them all sprout from the aether fully-grown or close enough to that. Chasing them around while they patter around Brenna wouldn't suit him at all. But while on the subject of marriage, let me say now that I wish you and Prince Noctis the best of luck. You do look… _fitting_, together."

"Thank you." She couldn't help but look over to the Prince of Lucis, and wonder for how long the King intended for the lie to go on.

* * *

Lunafreya stood before the throne, and listened to the retreating steps of one prince and the decoy of another. She waited for the gates to come to a full close.

"Have you no remorse?" she asked. "You hide from that man the truth of who he is."

"He has cast aside needless connections in service to the Crown," Regis insisted. "He will be rewarded in the Beyond."

"No reward would be greater than a life to call his own. You mock his predicament, and avail yourself of the grace of the Six to continue something so unforgivable. All so that you can keep your power by denying your own flesh and blood his birthright?"

"_He_ is a wayward brat, ignorant of my sacrifices. He will _earn_ his place in history, not have it handed to him."

"Earned_, _as you believe you've done? You waited for your sire to die. I hardly consider _that_ a great achievement. Perhaps the small, raven-haired child of twelve years ago was unfit by your definition, but he is a boy no longer. He needn't prove himself to you. It serves little purpose. He is _already_ proven."

"You foolishly believe what drivel he's scrawled to you in your little books?"

"I believe what I see with my own eyes, and I have seen that you have shielded him from his responsibilities, time and again. You 'protect' him and shift his duties as King onto others, even how to comport himself, yet speak of how he should be grateful. He wants only to be worthy of you, yet you have kept him away."

The silence revealed more to her than he thought it did; namely that he'd refuse to entertain the topic or admit fault.

"Twelve years ago, you said that he was Chosen. For what? What purpose would be so great that he be made to forgo being a leader to his people?"

"You question things that are beyond you," the King said. "You're to leave my sight and head for Altissia."

She let her gaze travel over what she could see of him, in search of what barbarous bone in his body allowed him to come out with that level of effrontery.

"Are you certain that that's a wise action for me to take?" Her tone was measured and quiet, but nowhere close to fearful of him. "Were I to leave now, the Empire would follow me wherever I go. It would be a _shame _were your son to _already_ await my arrival in Accordo, and be placed in harm's way by such a reckless action."

At that, the Ring began to glow, and the tumult of emotions swirled behind the King's eyes. "… _You…_"

"You received his letter telling you to agree to the terms _before_ the Imperial envoy could speak of the same. Did you think that a coincidence?"

From even where she stood, she could see the veins of magic crack open on the right side of the King's face.

He could be as angry as he pleased, but nothing that was within his power to do would sway her. "I will remain here in Insomnia for the treaty signing, and it _will_ be signed. My departure will be no sooner than that. If you _are _at all interested in Prince Noctis's safety and whatever purpose you have for him, you'll let me leave the city as I arrived; unharmed, and of my own will."

The light faded from Regis's skin. He exhaled with a sound likened to a dragon that had opted not to incinerate an intruder and coiled back up to return to its sleep. The air still burned in the wake of his anger, but it would cool in time.

Luna offered a slow nod of her head. "Thank you." She turned to leave, but paused mid-motion. "One more thing."

King Regis let out an exasperated, "_Yes?_"

"Casting Silence on a guest while he's speaking is rather rude. That won't repeat itself, will it?"

"… _No._"

Another nod. "Good."

Only then did she fully turn around, and leave the King where he was seated. As her steps led her further away from him, she put on a smile that would tell others that nothing was wrong, and they needn't even ask. The gates to the chamber parted as usual, and she stepped out to join the two princes.

"Memories of the past are a wonderful thing, aren't they?"


	9. Convalescence

**Chapter 9: Convalescence**

The party arrived back at camp, and found that the food had gone cold. It was nothing that couldn't be fixed with a well-placed Fire spell and some warming plates. Noct and Gladio sat at the table, Ignis took his seat near the campfire instead, and Prompto tried not to sit too close to Iggy, but not close to Noctis or Gladio either, and they all formed a vague triangle. They ate without a single word shared between any of them, while the conversation waited impatiently for an opportunity to start.

Were Noctis to speak, he was sure to gush about his relief that Gladio was safe, and he'd only stop when everyone was sick to the back teeth. Any thanks to Prompto would be absent.

Prompto wouldn't care about that, only thankful the situation wasn't any worse. He'd keep his mouth shut about it, for now. Any word in that direction would flip Noct's tolerable mood sideways. The quiet proved more tolerable. Better that than a direct confrontation. Things weren't so simple as to be fixed with some impassioned speech about how Noctis fucked up.

The spoon was halfway to his mouth when he paused to sigh, though he passed it off as blowing the steam from an overheated spoonful before he shoved it into his mouth and did the same to the rest.

It should have been simple in the sense that nothing _needed _to be explained. Noctis was past old enough to know how to express that he was angry without _murder_ being an option. He should have known. Whether he knew and didn't care, or never knew because he wasn't raised _to _care, was something they'd have to figure out sooner rather than later, before this situation repeated itself.

Prompto had pushed the ghost of the memory aside of his own ordeal. The press of fingers around his neck, nails that dug into his skin, _clawlike _things_. _He put it to the back of his mind where it belonged. Why think of it anymore? He fought back, he won. That was over, and if it ever came back, it would end the same way. He was more concerned for the one that didn't fight it, that _couldn't _fight_. _

He swallowed down the last of his food, and with it the urge to cry. Noctis could do what he wanted to Prompto about whatever he was mad at. He could handle it, handled himself fine against that kind of thing since he was a kid, even if it wasn't to the same degree. He disagreed with Noct, insulted him, defended what Noct saw as indefensible. Retaliation for that was 'expected'. That was whatever. But what Noct did to _Ignis_, what he did there… Prompto would be damned if he let that happen again. Ignis paid for the 'crime' of being his friend, and he shouldn't have. He _shouldn't_ have.

Yet as unfair as he _knew _Ignis's treatment was, he couldn't say that aloud, either. Not to Noctis. Not even to Gladio. Suppose that Gladio were to bring it to Noct's attention to get him to stop? There was no telling how Noct would respond, if it wasn't the same trite and familiar response Prompto had seen from others in his school days. Squirt some crocodile tears, look extra guilty, spit out an insincere '_Sorry_', promise not to do it again. And then he would, and do it worse, and hide it better. The 'sorry' would only apply to the fact that he got caught, and nothing more.

There was a chance that Gladio would set Noct straight, with how much Noct usually paid attention to him, but it was only that—a _chance. _One that Prompto was in no mood to push, not with Ignis's well-being at stake.

If it failed, Ignis wouldn't tell anyone. That much was obvious. Noct would always be his liege, regardless of that entire issue of Noctis being 'raised as a commoner' to hide his identity. The guy still wound up with servants, retainers, bodyguards. He still had a shot at being judged worthy as King if his dad retired or died. That was more of a chance than any _truly_ normal person would get in their lifetime. He knew he wasn't 'normal'. They all did.

The succession was so much to think of. If Noct was found worthy, Ignis would have to be there with him. And if Noct wasn't worthy… how would he react? Leave it, take it, or take it out on others? Ignis would have to be there for that, too.

No matter what, to call the spot the brunet was in _difficult_, would be the understatement of the century. Prompto could wish it didn't have to be that way, but what would a simple wish do? He had to do _something. _There was just the question of what.

As if on cue to distract Prompto from his thoughts, Christopher scrambled up to the Haven grounds, followed by Gighee pulling itself up by its hooves. Prompto was the first to spot him, followed by Gladio, then Noctis who tensed at the sight of the creature and the kid. The crackle under everyone's skin served as a signal to the prince's agitation.

Christopher paid too much attention to Prompto to notice that one other person didn't find his presence there welcome. "The big people are all better now," he said.

Prompto put his dish down and got up from his seat. He crouched in front of their newest guests and blocked eye contact between them and Noct. "That's great, Christopher. You and Gighee did something kind."

"Yeah, and… and the big people weren't mad. They were a little confused, is all. They weren't mean like I thought."

"It's even better that you learned that for yourself. It's not just me saying it. Put 'er there, kid." Prompto held out his hand for a high-five.

"Hahah, yeah!" Christopher was eager to give just that.

Prompto flashed him a grin. "Really, thanks a bunch, Christopher. And you too, Gighee." He was sure to nod to the little horse. "That you two didn't leave all those people that way? It means a lot more than you think. Maybe they might come back with kids that can be your friends. And if they don't, then I promise _I'll _come by with friends for you. You won't have to _ever_ worry about being lonely."

"That sounds like a big promise, Mister. But ya didn't lie before, so," he gave Prompto's hand a squeeze. Gighee followed that up with an affectionate nuzzle.

( Meanwhile, Ignis pointedly kept his gaze away with a more-than-normal interest in his plate of food, though he wasn't close to halfway with it. There was little purpose in looking upon something he couldn't truly see.

He tried not to be so bothered by it, but knew it would affect him regardless of his wants. He knew of Gighee's existence and could see it, yet 'Christopher' was nothing but thin air. Not even the fact that Prompto spoke to the boy was enough to bring that fact to his eyes, or his ears.

Gladiolus could speak to the child as well, from what he knew. _That means_ … He failed to fight away the thought that there remained another layer of this, another layer of worthiness that determined whether he saw things. If there did exist that other requirement, then he didn't meet it. )

"Hey, Mister…?" the child whispered, and tightened his grip on his friend's hand.

"Mm?" Why the tension, and the secrecy? Prompto leaned closer.

"Mister Prompto. That guy over there… he feels sad."

Ignis's inappropriately keen interest in his forkful didn't escape Prompto's notice for long after that was pointed out. To him, it seemed an almost aggressive attempt on Iggy's part to keep his expressions and likely his thoughts neutral. He kept his notice as disguised as possible: looked at Ignis for a second more before his gaze landed on Gladio, and then Noctis, who didn't look very pleased but maintained focus on his own plate and stabbing the food that was in it.

The blond willed the sadness away from his own face long enough for the others not to see evidence of it, then he turned back around to face Christopher. "With the glasses, right?" he whispered back.

"Mm-hmm…"

That made him ache more than he thought it would. Perhaps because there was still hope that the first time was a mere fluke of magic, and that it would be fixed somehow for the second. But now he'd need to confirm it. Put it into words.

"He's sad because he can't see you. I don't know why he can't, but he knows Gighee's here, at least." He hung his head in shame at the lame attempt at putting a positive spin on that. "I'm sorry, buddy."

"Nah, it's fine that he can't see me, but it's sad that he's sad about it." It was a good thing Christopher said that, on account of his mask having no expression at all. "He's by himself over there too… maybe that's it? He needs a friend, though I don't think he can make friends the way Gighee does. You think you could be over there, then, so he's not alone?"

Prompto nodded. "I want to do that right now, but," he couldn't help but laugh, "adult friendships get complicated."

"Uh-huh. It's like, you're friends with your friends, but sometimes the friends you're friends with aren't each other's friends, and some friends are more friendly than others and you wanna be all-the-time friends, and then you got sometimes the some-of-the-time friends, and of course you gotta treat 'em different on account of the time you're with 'em, but you wonder if you're not being fair or if they'll get mad?"

Prompto blinked in confusion. That sounded like something his dad would say, in that cyclical and loop-de-looping way that still somehow made all the sense in the world. "It's like that, yeah, some of the time." He'd keep quiet of the other ways one could make a friendship harder to sustain. "So… I'll let him know that it's fine that he can't see you, okay?"

"Yeah, you tell 'im. Even if he's not my friend like you are, he's Gighee's friend like I am. Sorta. Kinda. More like how you are. Yeah, like that."

On that note, Gighee could usually tell when someone was talking to it. As far as anyone was concerned, that was an understandable skill. Being talked _about_ was different; to Prompto's surprise, it seemed like it could recognize that as well, and stood up and made its way to where Ignis was seated.

* * *

Gladio observed the goings-on in the only way he could; silently, with information piecing itself together by what he saw. Tension hovered above the others in a stormcloud, and it hadn't been there when he last left to the lake. They thought to avoid it or smother it under the impression of normalcy, but it didn't work well, or at all.

Prompto was being himself the most. The kind of guy to stick his head into a Coeurl den because he'd see fur and paws and his mind would think '_Ooo, cuddly_'. The prognosis? He'd probably die from a sincere attempt. Not because he'd be blasted to hell and back by a pair of supercharged whiskers, but because a healthy Coeurl weighed close to a ton and he'd wind up with one trying to use him as a pillow after he'd _successfully_ convinced it that it wasn't much else but a giant cat.

This wasn't as dangerous as that, but the facts were facts: the horse petrified a lot of people. The solution to it relied on Noctis talking to it as he had before, since it trusted him. Yet he wasn't doing that now. He hadn't at _all_. He wasn't even close by when Gladio was restored to normal. Prompto had kept up with Ignis's plan, so something had gone down.

He glanced quickly to assess the retainer's state. Ignis was nowhere close to done with his food. Not even half-done. He'd lost his appetite yesterday, too. Whatever happened between the three, _someone_ hadn't come out of the situation unscathed. Had he been affected directly, other than by worry?

The question stuck in his mind as Gighee got up. It put some distance between itself and Christopher as it clip-clopped its way straight to Ignis. Not even the brunet was expecting that, and he followed its approach with his eyes, waited for it to do whatever it was thinking of. Its act was simple; it folded its legs underneath its body as if it were going to take a nap, and it closed its eyes.

Ignis stared at Gighee for a moment more, and maybe he was thinking of whether to touch it or not, what with his hand hovering towards it. He decided against that and kept his hands to himself. He cast an uncertain glance to Prompto, and back to his unfinished plate.

Gladio had always known Ignis to have that demeanor, infinitely careful, doing his utmost to ensure he wasn't intruding anywhere, but the discomfort _radiated _off his skin this time. No other words would come to mind for how Iggy looked, except _different. _Tired? There was something there that was at the tip of the Shield's tongue. The connections would form sooner or later, so he turned his attention to Noct.

Noctis was a smidge simpler to figure out. The horse fixed the petrification problem, and Noct refused to talk to it or the kid regardless. They were the ones to _cause _the issue, but it wasn't permanent, and the incident didn't get past their usual stomping grounds. It should have been safe—instead there was still the faint undercurrent of apprehension even now.

None of that covered the specter that Gladio had seen; with the ominous way it spoke about them finding out what it was 'soon', it could be more destructive yet. Noct didn't know about that, so if he was placing blame anywhere, it was going to the wrong thing. Gladio made a mental note to tell him, and take his mind away from everything else.

No better opportunity than now, right? "Hey."

The target of that could've been any one of the others, but Noct knew instantly that it was for him. He sat up straighter at the sound of Gladio's voice. "Uh-huh?"

"It's been a long day. About time to make up for the nap you didn't take earlier."

"I should, yeah."

"Go on ahead, I'll take these."

There was a flash of reluctance on Noctis's face as Gladio took both their plates and left his spot at the table. He followed Gladio with his eyes, then glanced at everyone else. Ignis was being Ignis, at one side of the campfire, just shy of being outside of its light. That weird horse-thing… _ugh. _It was right next to him. ( There was a surge under the Shield's skin that was concentrated in his arm, a screeching hum of magic that told him Noct straddled the line between troubled and outright aggravated. ) Noctis looked at where Prompto was, and _double ugh_—the beast's brat was keeping him company. What was he supposed to do about this?

He couldn't stick around to watch them; none of them were doing much else except sitting around. He wasn't _so _pathetic as to be discomfited by them to such an extent. And those plates weren't going to animate themselves and eat his Shield alive. It wouldn't take much time for Gladio to join him.

It didn't; the trip back and forth took no time at all. At the sight of him, Noct got up from his seat and made his way to the tent, and ducked under its folds, and Gladio followed behind.

That must have been the only thing missing. The crackle beneath everyone else's skin subsided, a sign that they were safe for now.

Gighee picked its head up as if it sensed a change in the air, perhaps cognizant of the lack of electrified magic. It stood on its skinny legs and nuzzled Ignis's palm, coaxing him to pet its muzzle.

"Ah…?" Ignis followed its lead, and applied a gentle touch. He found that his hand was drawn to the warmth of the star on its forehead.

Prompto spotted the opening and moved his seat beside Ignis while Iggy was preoccupied with his display of affection.

The brunet wasn't so distracted that he couldn't note or guess the presence of an extra guest. "The boy is still here, yes?"

Christopher nodded.

"Yeah, he is," Prompto said aloud. "He said it was okay that you can't see him. As long as you can see Gighee, you're good."

Ignis allowed himself a quiet smile, though if he was genuinely relieved or thought that Prompto had said that to make him feel better wasn't certain. "I'm glad. I didn't want to offend him."

"No harm done," Christopher said. "I'm not in real life anyway."

"Say what?" Prompto turned to face thin air, for all Ignis could see.

"I'm a pretend friend?" Christopher answered in the same tone, and added a shrug as if he'd said nothing out of the ordinary.

_Pretend…? _Prompto mouthed the word, and it clicked. "Whoa… Uh, Igs?"

"Yes?" There was a happier note to Ignis's voice now that he was being addressed.

"You were right. Gighee _does _understand language."

Ignis gave that fact some time to settle in. "Hm. That's good to know." He and Gighee's gazes met, and he could swear that something about its large and expressive eyes made him want to coo at it and pet it some more. Was this how people felt about kittens, and other small creatures? It wasn't much of a direct answer to his question, but the fawn-sized horse tried to lick his fingers. He tried his best not to _Awwww _aloud.

The sight was an adorable one, but Prompto took his eyes away from it. He got up and dusted himself off.

"Mm? Where are you going?"

"Oh, I'm just," Prompto motioned to the stovetop. "Figured I'd take a load off your mind and fix up what's missing. I mean, I know you're in charge of that…" That _was _Ignis's usual role at the end of the day, to check the inventory and the medicine, but it was twice now that Prompto had taken a Potion to use, not to mention the one that Noct must have used for himself. He'd have to make that up to him.

"I am. I also see what you're trying to do." Ignis stopped petting Gighee, and he didn't sound or look pleased at the idea.

Prompto was taken aback. His thoughts turned into scribbles and static and sputters outside of a good and clear _Fuck, I messed up. _Ignis could very well do this all himself—_damn it, he thinks I'm treating him like he' s useless_—

"I oust you from your throne as King of Photography, and you see fit to take my place as Potionsmaker. Is that it?" Ignis's look softened into a smile so warm it _melted_ all those anxious thoughts and what was the problem again?

Prompto stared at Ignis. He did. He knew that's what he did, and that his jaw went slack. Then he felt his mind rev back up as he realized the other hadn't been upset at his intention to start with.

"Y-yeah, I'm gonna get even," the blond said, and turned around to hide the way his face heated up. "I'll make such a good goddamn Potion, you'll wonder why I haven't been in charge of making 'em from the start."

"How confident you are. How sorely mistaken, too."

"Oh, you don't believe me? You'll see. I'll make you eat your words, and you'll—" A laugh leapt out of him and he covered his mouth. "You can chase it down with one of these." He readied the pot and water to boil, and reviewed what herbs he needed for the curatives.

* * *

Within the tent, Noctis laid there with his hands folded lazily over his midsection as he stared up at the featureless tent ceiling. He didn't feel sleepy in the least bit, but he needed some space to himself.

"Gonna be okay?" his Shield asked.

The prince looked away, and didn't answer immediately. He _was_ a little better without the troublesome horse-thing in sight. He needed to be far away from it, and further still from that vile, abyssal rage he felt earlier.

"Are _you _okay?" he asked back. Though he could hear Gladio's voice fine, he wanted more. What had happened back there felt so dreamlike after the fact, viewed through a film of water. Rippling images, faces that seemed familiar and yet didn't at all. He didn't want this to be the same thing.

"Yeah, I'm good."

Fingers threaded through his hair. He knew them well; they were rough, and their calluses suggested a hard-earned strength with sword or shield in grasp, but they could be gentle. As easily as those hands uprooted weeds from the family's garden, or wrung the life out of a daggerquill for their next meal, they were ever the patient guides when they taught the princeling to properly wield a sword.

Noct couldn't help but recall the funny little memory from ages ago: Gladio's venture to the outlands yielded an encounter with a caterchipillar larva. It was big enough to take up most of his palm. He brought it back home to show Noctis and Iris, and let it crawl along his hands then up his arm to show how harmless it was. Iris was grossed out, and Noct thought it was the coolest thing ever, and faked being upset that he missed out on the trip. Gladio had promised to take him on a trip 'the next time'.

It was a silly thought, but he wanted to protect those moments and have more of them that he could recall as fondly in the future as he did now.

He couldn't do that if he lost Gladio, nor would he be able to face Iris if anything happened to her brother. As much as she cared for Noctis, she cared for Gladio way more—there was no guarantee she wouldn't look at Noct and wish he'd taken Gladio's place among the dead, lifelong role as Shield be damned.

He lifted his hands and let them speak for him. _What happened to you,_ _it was my fault. I should've been there._

"Huh?" Seeing that come from Noct was so stunning as to leave the swordsman clueless for a few seconds until the rest of him caught up. He shook his head, and signed back, _No, it wasn't. You didn't know what would happen when I left you guys. Didn't do that to me yourself, either. I was caught by surprise, yeah. But everything worked out. Maybe things would've been different if you were there, but we wouldn't know how. Not unless it happened that way._

Noctis bristled at that. Did that mean he'd have only gotten in the way? That he was still useless? It was hard enough to take those words with the events as they played out; he'd done nothing to help Gladio come back to normal. Yet Prompto, of all the people who could have found the solution to the problem, simply _talked_ and got what he wanted.

_So we just rely on the 'monster whisperer', then? Is that it?_ His fingers didn't move as fluidly as they should have; he couldn't keep his distaste out of the question. Talking or 'asking nicely' may have worked for now, but what would Prompto do if he encountered something he couldn't wheedle or wile his way out of?

Gladio shook his head. _Noct, the Gighee isn't as much of a monster as you think it is. It can show up on a Haven. You think the Priestesses wouldn't make their magic ward it off, if it were a real danger?_

Noct huffed, but considered it. The Fleurets used to regularly renew the warding runes etched into the rock campers rested upon, and it guarded its dwellers from even the most dangerous daemons, without fail. The runes held up even in modern times when they hadn't been visited in ages. The Gighee was a creature of legend, so the Priestesses _would _know about it, its capabilities and its intentions. But things could change in years and decades and centuries. Even more so with the outbreak of the plague—kind beings could become warped, twisted into hate-filled shells of themselves.

But he didn't want to disagree with Gladio, no matter what their respective thoughts. And he didn't want to underestimate Luna's whole family either. Aloud, he gave a non-committal hum that conceded the point to his Shield.

Gladio gave a quick nod, both acceptance and thanks for not pressing the issue any more. Now, he could say what he needed to. _There was something else out there_, he added. _I didn't mention it while we were on our way here, but the wards on the Haven should make this safe enough to say_.

_What?_ Noct sat up, fully alert with the new information. _It wasn't just those two you found?_

"Nn-nn." Gladio shook his head. _Out there at the lake, I heard a noise. My first thought was that it was either Gighee or the kid it was with, but when I closed my eyes and focused, that's when I noticed there was something else. A scent in the air. Like someone was set on fire. The thing that carried it got closer to me than I'd have liked._

The prince's brows furrowed in concern. It was starting to sound as if he'd been wrong, but he needed to know for certain. _What did it even look like?_

_It didn't look like much of anything, _the Shield replied_. I mean, it couldn't keep shape. It was smoke. Tried hitting it and, nothing._

_That was it, then._ That was why they had seen Gladio with the Royal Arms in hand. _So we should,_ Noct shifted uncomfortably, _we should look it up, right? Investigate if there's been anything recently. Reports that we've missed. Ghost sightings, fires, or… _he left it at that.

Gladio nodded. _Yeah, we'll do that. But for right now, rest up. Can't be much of a private eye if you're trying to sneak in some shut-eye every other question_. He reached out to pet Noct's hair again, ruffling the already unruly raven locks.

Noctis smiled at the joke, and leaned in to the touch to enjoy it while it lasted. It was funny enough that he could put aside the fact that he'd been wrong that the Gighee was worth attacking. What Gladio said now matched up with what the child had said earlier—he could accept that. He laid back down and tried to clear his head of those thoughts, so that sleep would come. It pulled him away before he knew it, coaxed him with the sensation of warm and strong fingers that skimmed the top of his head.

Once it was clear that Noctis was far away from the likelihood of noises disturbing him, Gladio let out a sigh that he'd held since the moment he first got into the tent.

This wasn't good. Not only had Noct gotten tense around the Gighee, he called the creature a monster _and _doubted whatever Prompto did to get it to cooperate. He may have blamed himself for what happened, but he wasn't forthcoming about what he'd done in his Shield's absence.

Gladio could _hope_ it wasn't what he thought, but prepared himself for the possibility that it was. Whether he liked it or not, this was what he had his role for.

When he was younger, he'd thought it was a sick joke from someone with a matching sense of humor. The way his dad said it, he wasn't there just to protect Noct physically _or _protect his reputation. Someone above, maybe even the gods themselves, thought that was too _easy. _Instead, his real job was to make sure that Noct didn't turn into his father.

'Piece of work' didn't cut it to describe the King, how he stopped being on speaking terms with Cid, how he refused to negotiate with the Imperial soldier ten years ago, or even cover the rumors of how the late King Mors actually died, or where Cor fit into that. ( Cor kept his lips sealed on anything to do with King Mors, so he wouldn't clear anything up soon. )

The role of Shield had less to do with protecting the King, and everything to do with protecting everyone else _from _the King if worse came to worst, and the Amicitia line could attest to that happening more times than not. There wasn't space on the throne for a moral compass.

Gladio hadn't taken it seriously, not at first. _Dad's just bitter about his work, _he thought. Sure, the kingdom had horror stories about what King Regis had done or not done. The same Regis who was the only son of King Mors, the one who had grown to despise his father in his old age and failing health, the one who was keenly aware of his birthright and saw other people as holding him back from what was rightfully his. But that was _him. _There was no guarantee that _Noct_ would be that terrible, and it wasn't fair to the kid to treat him like a bad seed already.

Wasn't fair, but he still had a job to do, so he approached his role with the only other thing he knew how to be at the time. He didn't see Noct's moods as any different than when Iris would throw a tantrum when she didn't get a favorite toy. He considered that an opportunity: teach the kid how to win and do his best; teach him how to lose and do so gracefully; teach him how to be self-sufficient and have boundaries; show him the value in compromising.

Made sense. Winning didn't mean much if one didn't accept that they could strive their best and still have victory just out of their reach. And given how many people served a King and how many he would serve in turn, Noctis couldn't be too paranoid to trust others or ask for help or negotiate deals for the same—he had to do it with enough wisdom not to let himself be used for his status, or to be someone else's mouthpiece or their personal army.

He tried to teach Noct all of that, especially how to take a loss. And here Noct was, the only son of King Regis, annoyed towards his dad in his old age and stubbornness and failing health, and always side-eyeing the 'fake Noctis' because of the chance he wouldn't be King because of that guy. Rather than learn how to lose, Noct learned about what he could accept to lose, but there were a _lot_ of things that didn't make it onto that list.

Gladio ran his fingers through his own hair. Noctis _would_ become King of Lucis sooner or later. But the swordsman wasn't ready for that yet—it'd mean he'd have to stop seeing Noct as a prince or even a king, and see him as a threat. Same as his father.

_But he still isn't like him. He can't be. _Gladio had said as much to his own father and caught a hand across the face for it. It wasn't an awful thought to have—looking at Noct now, asleep, there were traces of that boy from years ago, the one that'd joined him and Iris on a trip out west to Cape Caem to take a break from the city. It was a change of pace and the vacation was nice, save for an encounter with a prickly and unwanted neighbor that got the bright idea to jump out from the shrubbery and let its needles fly at its nearest target. Iris would have been hit, but Noct warp-struck the cactuar and sent it skittering away.

That was such a weird memory to hold on to, wasn't it? A cactuar attack, of all things. Maybe that wasn't the real memory to recall.

After all, it was hard to forget the triumphant grin on Noct when he faced the others, ready to brag about his achievement. Harder yet to forget how that expression morphed into shock when he realized he hadn't been fast enough—the cactuar got a few dozen needles out anyway. Iris was fine, but Gladio was far from it in her place, and Noct was inconsolable, even when Gladio morbidly joked about how he'd always wanted to try out acupuncture but couldn't find the time. If he could repeat that event, he'd leave the joke out. It was inappropriate.

It was a hassle and a half to take the needles out, and Gladio couldn't remember that half of it under a haze of anesthetic. All he remembered was that Iris sat in the clinic hallway and wept as if her brother had flatlined already, and Noct elbowed his way into the room just so he could hold Gladio's hand through the whole process and _prove _he was fine, tired of only being able to _tell _Iris not to worry.

Gladio went completely under at some point, and stirred awake to find Noct still holding onto his hand. Kid forced himself to stay awake and make sure Gladio was still breathing. Though he tried to reassure Noct that he was fine and that Noct didn't need to do that, he couldn't forget how serious the little prince was when he vowed he'd be faster—he wouldn't let anything hurt Gladio if he had the power to stop it.

He still saw traces of that boy that his father hadn't been around to see or hear. Noct looked too _honest_ then for it to have been empty words.

That might've been the problem. How far was Noct willing to go to prove he was telling the truth? What did it mean to hold himself to that vow?

Gladio pulled a flap of the tent to the side to look at what was out there. Christopher and Gighee were long gone. He would've joked about it being past the boy's curfew, but everything about that kid was a hair too weird for that to work.

He looked at who remained. Prompto was at the stove, and he stirred something in the saucepot. Smelled like alstrooms and haven herbs. Iggy was still seated in front of the campfire, and his dinner plate was on the ground, with bits of food littered around it. His eyes darted to Gladio at the sound of the tent opening, but he faced forward again after he got his confirmation of who'd taken that peek.

Right. Prompto was making a Potion. Ignis trusted him enough to let him. Iggy had already replaced the last one that was used a couple of days ago, though, so someone _had_ to have taken another.

He had to put that together with what else he'd known. Whatever happened, Ignis still wasn't over it, and Prompto did something that wound up with Noctis being left behind, however brief the abandonment was.

He got out of the tent and let it close fully. "Anyone wanna tell me what happened while I was out?"

There was a brief lapse to the stirring motions, but Prompto regained his rhythm in what he hoped was a fast enough time that no one else noticed.

Ignis at least tried to feign ignorance. "There isn't much to comment on. Gighee was adorable, not different than when we last met it."

"That's a relief, but I'm asking about when I was a statue."

The clarification didn't sit well. The expression that had come over Ignis was truly as if he'd pulled a mask over his face with its look etched and painted in, ever unchanging regardless of what were to happen around it. "As I've already said, nothing much to comment on."

Though he knew Ignis had the skill to maintain his composure in most situations, this was different. Gladio could recognise when he was being shut out.

He knew that that wasn't what any of them needed. He closed the distance to where the retainer was seated. "The way you're acting doesn't make it look like 'nothing much'."

"Nothing happened. Everything is fine," Ignis said again, voice stiff.

"Fine enough for you to change glasses, too?"

That wasn't something that usually turned heads, but Ignis was quick to wipe out the smudges and buff out any scratches on the lenses as soon as he noticed they were there. He was obsessive in that way, always wanting things clear, no room for misinterpretation on his part. There were some scratches that couldn't be worked off, though he still tried it out of habit as they built up in more unreachable places. To go from that, to no marks at _all_ on them? He changed them entirely, and probably not because he _felt_ like it, given his usual refrain of not being made of money.

Judging from the silence, Ignis was in no mood to entertain any conversation. It wasn't personal; he was just doing the usual thing. Six above, did he look tired though. His skin didn't have a pale or sickly shade to point to his condition like a neon sign, but he looked as if he lost more sleep than usual. If he were to use a Potion, it wouldn't fix that, less likely if there were other injuries to prioritize. But from what Gladio saw of him on their way back to the haven, there was no damage to his clothes to suggest an injury on the outside.

He couldn't leave out the fact that wasn't the only way _to _be injured. "I'm gonna need you to roll up your sleeve. Only one," he said. He kept his voice low. "Can you do that?"

Ignis narrowed his eyes, but cast a hesitant glance elsewhere. His need for space didn't outweigh his aversion to raising his voice or drawing attention to himself. His reluctance showed in his avoidance of Gladiolus's gaze, but he rolled up his right sleeve anyway.

Gladio's fingers traced the visible and darkened veins on his friend's arm. _Just as I thought. _The clothes hid it well enough, but something—_or_ _some__**one**__, _he mentally corrected—had done a number on Ignis, and he wasn't willing to say.

The Shield bit back his words. He _could_ refuse to give in to his suspicions, but if he refused now, he'd just be powered by stubbornness and inappropriate naivete. This wasn't normal, and outside of the culprit being a fiend that didn't even travel these woods, the only other thing that could have caused this was magic. They all knew how bad Ignis's condition could get whenever Noct got excited about something, but he couldn't possibly think he could handle _this_ himself?

He let up his hold. "This is about Noct," he said to Ignis, "I _kno_w it is. But I need to know what happened. I can't help you if I don't know where to start."

Ignis kept quiet, fixed his sleeve and smoothed it out.

Gladio wasn't even sure if Ignis _wanted _to be silent. It looked as if he was biting his tongue. The more this 'conversation' went on, the worse things looked. "Prompto was with you, right? He'd know what happened."

There was an uncomfortable shift in the air around them. Ignis nodded, and tension made even _that_ a rigid move.

* * *

Prompto had gotten far enough into the potions-making that he'd poured them into the bottles and stashed them away. He fought the dread out from the pit of his stomach. He didn't want to be there doing nothing. And he wouldn't leave Ignis alone, not here and not now. The question remained on what he could do in light of that decision.

He approached the others. Rather, went to Ignis's side and took a reassuring hold of the brunet's hand. "I get it, you're worried. But, he's… he's already said he's fine. We're fine. Can't this wait until tomorrow?"

Gladio knew that something was wrong, enough to be more insistent about this than he had about what happened in Galdin, but did that mean it was safe to say it? Ignis was right there. He was there, and quiet. Prompto had to respect that, right?

He bit his lip. The only show of nervousness he'd allow of himself. As much as he tried to convince himself to stay quiet, there wasn't a shred of conviction to back that up. He'd already made the mistake of holding back on his words out of 'respect' for Ignis's situation, claiming he didn't know what their bond was really like. He knew better now, had to _do_ better.

Every truth had its place, and this must have been the opportunity. Gladio was already in front of them, already recognized that a problem was there without anyone else having opened their mouth. The guy wasn't stupid, so Prompto couldn't be, either. Not in a way that'd cause an encore performance of earlier events.

There was a squeeze on his fingers. He met Ignis's gaze, found something there that he couldn't put words to.

"It's alright. He knows."

It was a lightning flash of surprise in Prompto's eyes, but when he pointed them at Gladio, they had focused into irritation at the older man. "How much?"

"Not a lot," Gladio admitted. "Just that it's got to do with Noct."

"It does, yeah." His voice was tense. "When he saw you, he flipped out."

"Flipped out, how?" The question came out careful, and slow.

"Lost his mind, started talking about killing Gighee. That kind of thing. He was out of control, and Ignis—" he was nervous enough that his mouth went dry, and there was a heartbeat's worth of hesitation as he glanced down. His misgivings fled at the memory that came to mind. "Ignis got the worst of it. All he did was agree when I told Noct to clear his head. He stopped when Ignis cast something on him."

Gladio mulled over what he'd heard. It was expected that Noct wouldn't react any way that fit 'favorable', but to deliberately hurt his own friends over it? To use magic on those he was supposed to trust? "I've been trying to avoid this," he admitted.

"_Avoid_? That sounds _way_ bigger than 'not a lot' of knowing," Prompto snapped.

The swordsman shook his head. "I didn't know about all of this. I'd only ever heard of it from my dad, about _Noct's _dad. The old man had a temper, still does. That hasn't changed since 30 years ago, around the time he stopped fighting in the front lines as Prince. Whenever he'd fly off the handle, or focused on something dark, his magic…"

"The King can do that too, then? Suck the life out of people? Make 'em feel like their head's gonna explode?"

"He should be the only person that _can_ do that," Gladio said. "It's magic that the Caelums get only when they put the Ring on. They can cast stronger spells, complex ones. The kind of stuff most people would think of as 'forbidden'. The Crystal lets them once it thinks they're worthy. But for Noct to use it at this stage is…" he was too lost for words to continue.

Prompto hadn't any words of his own to help Gladio finish his sentence, only intense disappointment. With someone like the King for a father, how the hell _else _would Noctis be? Wanting approval from a man capable of that was insane. Even if Gladio didn't have a full scope of what the King could do, to figure out what Noctis would be capable of, more details would only make it worse.

To hear accusations of the King being uncaring in the political sense was one thing—hearing that from someone an ocean away put distance between the accused and their actions. Brushed off as '_they're not really here, they don't know what the situation is. It's only hearsay._' This was much closer. If his temper and the way he treated others was something even those in _his_ circle knew about, and _they _objected to it, then it wasn't a matter of 'us' and 'them'—issues between nobles and commoners. It was 'him' and 'everyone else'.

Did _Noctis _know enough about his father's behavior to defend others from it? Did he even try? Or did he only ever notice when the King was being unfair to _him_?

If that's the only thing he got out of Gladio's guidance and Ignis's constant care for him, then maybe the decoy _would _be the better successor to Regis. Prompto hadn't heard of that Noctis being _this _blind to the King's flaws. He sounded like the only decent human being in the family. Then again, that Noctis didn't have to prove who he was—everyone else already believed he was Noctis. The guy _they _were with was the one with so much to prove.

_I mean, shit, _Prompto thought, _what if that __**is **__Noctis, and this guy here is just 'Akihiko' who was raised to think he was secretly the real Noctis, to see what he'd do about it? A weird test of character?_

Not an accurate idea, and even he knew it. For one, being a commoner and being able to share magic were mutually exclusive things. Besides, that meant everyone else had to be deceived into thinking this Noct was legit, and that would be far too much work—on the other hand, King Regis was doing that already on everyone else, with that other Prince Noctis. What would one more lie mean to him?

It was a rock tossed into a pool. Ripples of deception, people pretending to be others when they should have simply been themselves. But they weren't the ones to cast that stone—that they 'act' instead of 'be' was decided for them ages ago.

_Does any of this even matter? This guy is 'Noct', for all any of us care. And whatever Iggy and Gladio have done for him, it's not working. Gotta do something different. _If Noct couldn't be trusted to keep himself under control because of the terrible example the King set, then they needed something more. Take away his capacity to hurt others, in that case—take away his magic?

_Would that even work?_ At that question, he couldn't help thinking of Ignis. They could go the route of Noct taking away his bond to each of them, but asking Noct to let go of his retainer sounded and expecting him to was too good to be true. Noct wouldn't do that, not if Ignis was _convenient_ to have around. But, if there existed something like a… an anti-magic ward, maybe, to disconnect them without Noctis being able to refuse, then Ignis would have a bit of his life back. He'd be free, right?

That'd depend a whole lot on what 'freedom' even meant, didn't it? By this point, the guy had gone on longer with using Noctis's magic than without using it, and more time than Prompto and Gladio _combined_. Did _he_ know what it was to be 'normal', or 'free'? What if he didn't _want _to be? What was his definition of 'having a life'? What if he already looked at what alternatives he had at hand and decided on his own that there weren't any worth taking?

Prompto didn't want to entertain the possibility that the bond took the place of something vital, that severing it would be worse than keeping it. He didn't want to, simply because he didn't _like _the idea. But this wasn't about him_, _it was about Ignis, so he'd keep it on his mental planning board anyway while he scrawled different ideas along the margins.

Being _alive_, and being _safe_. Those concepts shouldn't have been too much to ask for when it came to whatever Ignis was supposed to be to Noct, even if dying were considered an occupational hazard. And if Noct couldn't provide that, they'd have to get it from elsewhere. Anti-magic wards sounded like a good idea. But did those even exist? What form would they be in if they did? Could be anything. A machine. A charm. A person?

He'd never heard of a person with an ability to block magic. On the other hand, the Caelum line wasn't the only bloodline capable of _wielding _magic. And maybe, the same way water could put out a fire or wind could snuff it out, there were ways to apply magic that could counter another's use—or a whole branch of magic whose nature made it the counter to another branch.

Oh, now that, _that _sounded promising. The Caelum line with their black magic, they had destructive applications. The Fleurets and their white magic, that type of thing was usually restorative. That's how he'd come to understand it. The answer to the question he'd asked could be _there, _couldn't it? Somnus and Stella didn't hook up because their magics would oppose each other and cancel out, not make the resulting kids 'overpowered'. Luna would have the means of countering Noct, in that case?

They'd have to meet with her first. If that was how anything worked, she'd know that and she'd say so. At least, he hoped she did. And she'd be able to help them, and Ignis especially. There was the matter of _how _she could, once the details were made clearer.

As if waiting for the opportune moment, it clicked back into his brain, the passages in the _Origins _book about Messengers. The Fleurets bridged the gap between mortal and divine, elevated lives that were supposed to be transient in comparison to the seeming eternity exemplified by the gods. Hell, there was even the chance that they could grant life to what had none, but that wasn't in the book. At least not the part that he'd read. That was speculation for now.

Huh. He'd only flipped the pages of that portion of the book yesterday. Why did it feel like forever ago?

Never mind that! Damn it. He thought _one thing _and before he knew it, it had spooled out into a mess of thoughts as the thread of an idea rolled under and over and into the trail it left in its wake. At least he caught himself before it got worse, and traced the thread back to the conscious world, where people _weren't_ lost in their own heads. He was just in time to notice that not much of it had passed at all.

Gladio held on to Ignis's free hand. "We'll figure something out," he said. "I told Noct about the phantom, so he'll be focused on that for tomorrow. You take it easy, alright?"

"I'll try to."

That would be enough for now. Gladio backed out of Ignis's personal space and would have left to the tent, but a few steps in and he heard a '_Hold on,_' and a hand closed over his.

"You're not gonna squeeze in some exercise?" Prompto asked him. "You usually do that."

Gladio blinked at him, then looked to the tent. Noctis was usually a deep sleeper, and even when he woke up on his own, that was reliably hours after he first shut his eyes. "Yeah, I guess I can do that."

Prompto led the way to the bottom of the haven, where the warding runes were etched onto the rock wall and cast a pulsing glow. The light that came from it wasn't as bright as the campfire, but that it held so long without a Priestess to renew it was impressive. They walked around and around, and his fingers skimmed the carvings until he felt he knew what order they were in. Felt coherent, more a message in ancient tongue than random scrawls.

"Anyone tell you you've got a lot going on in that head of yours?" Gladio asked.

"Anyone tell _you _your voice sounds like melted chocolate and a warm hug?"

"What?"

Prompto raised an eyebrow, as if daring the swordsman to challenge the oddly-placed compliment. He tried to keep his expression as unreadable as possible outside of that. Problem was, he wasn't very good at it.

Gladio chuckled and gave him a quick pat on the shoulder as consolation. "Sorry for putting you and Ignis on the spot."

"Don't be. I wanted to say something. Just didn't know how."

"Mm. I guess I should say Noct isn't usually like that, but talk is cheap. He's gonna have a lot of work to do to prove it. Whatever you did to get his head straightened out, though, it helped. He won't tell you that himself, so I'll say it. Thanks."

"Uh… no problem." Prompto scratched at the back of his head.

They kept walking and did another lap around, when the curiosity got to him. "About that ghost thing from earlier, what'd it even look like?"

"Not much. Kinda resembled the statues from back home. But only some of the time, anyway."

"O-oh…" _An Emissary?_ Images of the Reaper were scattered around places in Insomnia. Perched atop buildings as gargoyles, or on the reverse side of votive candles lit for Etro. For the Emissary to appear here? Why? It would usually appear to…

_To cut the thread of someone's life._

He gulped. Licked his lips in nervousness. Patted his hands dry. Tried not to look _too _scared out of his mind at the idea. "What should we do about it?"

There was a pensive frown for a second, then Gladio shook his head. "Can't go back to Insomnia. If the city's getting prepared for the signing and the Empire will be there too, we can't make any moves that'll bring attention to Noct. We'll stick around here, then go to Altissia. That's the plan so far. Besides, I wouldn't be too worried about statues suddenly coming to life or anything. The ones back home are supposed to be guardians of wherever they're built, from what I've heard."

"Yeah, no worries then." Prompto swept his fingers through his hair. Right, yeah, they were guardians. The trip from one world to the next was perilous, and the Emissary carried those spirits safely to Etro before they would be snatched away by something else. "Maybe that thing _you_ saw was just a guy in a suit or some special effects or something."

Gladio allowed the quiet huff of a laugh. "Real funny. Anyway, what about you?"

"Huh? What _about _me?" Mostly-blue eyes locked to amber ones, looking for an explanation in them for the change in subject.

"I mean, are you okay?"

"I'm good. Least, I think I am." But his own state was the last thing on his mind. He fought off the urge to glance up to where Ignis was, and only asked, "You think he'll be fine?"

"Like he keeps saying he is? Yeah, he will. Just, do one thing for me, will ya? I know it's gonna sound like a lot…"

"Yeah, what is it?"

"Stick with him. I'll try to do my part, too, but he's the closed-off type. At least, that's how I've known 'im. Keeps things to himself. Doesn't wanna bother anyone. Uppity at his worst, even for me. You, though, you've got that way about you, you can get him to loosen up."

"What, really? He mostly bickers at me. About _everything._"

"Not quite everything." All those handholds came to mind, and the little talks the two would have about who-knows-what. "I'm just saying you'll do him some good."

What little relief Prompto could get from that curved his mouth before he could stop it, and that was what Gladio was waiting for.

"_There_ ya go. Was getting worried for a second."

"What? Not like the world is gonna end just because I didn't find something to smile about."

"Eh, I wouldn't call it world-ending either. At least, not for everyone at once."

"Huh? What's that mean?"

"Means that, maybe Iggy isn't the only person you're helping out by being here." A shrug, as if the swordsman had said nothing much.

They didn't bother to count the laps they'd taken around the haven. At some point they decided it was enough, and got up to the campgrounds. Ignis was still there, and had cleared the grounds of everything except the campfire itself and the tent they obviously needed. He just stood there, watching the distance.

"Try not to stay up too late, the both of you," Gladio advised. "There's gonna be a lot to do in the morning. Alright?"

Prompto waved. "Got it. Sleep good."

Gladio nodded, and retreated to the tent to get his own rest.

The quiet stayed there, and the air grew still. Ignis faced the direction of the nearby lake, but his gaze was turned to the stars. It took minutes before he looked to where Prompto was. He considered saying something. Whatever that was, the way his lips parted and then shut suggested that he thought better of it. He turned his back to everything else again.

Prompto wondered what was on Ignis's mind.

* * *

While the others got their ( far too late ) exercise under the protection of white magic runes, Ignis was kept company by the stars in the midnight sky. He looked up at them and questioned if the gods were truly asleep, or if those unreachable lights were the eyes through which they watched the world. So many hovered up there; perhaps there was a star for each person, so that nothing escaped the gods' vision.

He pondered on which of the remaining five in the Hexatheon had watched over them on the night that he and Prompto met. Did that god witness a moment of true chance, or did they have a hand in aligning each of their paths just so?

What did they think of their work? Did they realize the mistake they made? Or were they too _entertained_ to see it for what it was?

As the questions arose, they made his heart ache in a different way than when he cast magic. Not a useful pain at all. It just _hurt. _Were it true that any one of the gods conspired to have them meet, what was the point? His fate was to serve Noctis, not to make personal connections. And yet, the two met.

Was it a gift, to make his role more bearable? They couldn't be so kind. No, it was likely just another curse to show him what he was missing.

He couldn't trust his own heart for the answer, biased as it was. He tried to imagine what his life would be without Prompto at all, and what came to mind was more akin to a somehow-uncharted realm of Naraka. Had he only had to focus on himself and his work, and the next day being the same as the last… if he had nothing else to hope for except to make it to the next day, it wouldn't be so bad, would it? It'd be normal, it'd be routine.

Work _was_ routine, yes, but he found himself looking forward to—_hoping _for_—_everything outside of that, for the next time he would see Prompto, or find a cleverly slipped note telling him of the blond's day. That hasty scrawl of excitement about the videogame he bought with his part-time work, or what new song he learned on his guitar, or even how many birds he'd spotted sitting on a telephone wire and acting an eerie lot like humans, though it could've been the result of an overactive imagination.

Those should have been trivial details, but Ignis held onto them all. Ample motivation for him to pursue what of his own hobbies that he could, simply to have something to tell Prompto about in turn that had nothing to do with Noctis or council meetings or politics. He tried having hobbies _with _Noctis—watching movies, listening to music and all—but it wasn't the same. It went about as well as being friends with one's master would be expected to go. It felt different, with Prompto.

If the gods weren't responsible for their connection, then he had only himself to blame. He allowed this to happen. He'd gotten attached and did little to stop it, though he should have ended their contact without so much as a second thought. Prompto should have faded into the sea of faces met and forgotten. It would've only taken a letter to end it, or no letters at all. At first it'd ache, but the blond had the strength to move on and make new connections. Better ones. Ignis should have given him that chance.

There was no use in wondering if it were possible to set things to the way they were _supposed _to be. Whatever strength it took for that, he didn't have it in him. He took precious time away from Prompto in a way he couldn't hope to return, though he promised he would. The truth, deep down, was that the blond was more kind to him than he deserved. Those letters and the enthusiasm, the warmth and the protective embraces, and even the dinner with his parents—they were meant to be given to someone more worthy of it.

Ignis thought of that other person. Somewhere out there, someone had been robbed of the chance to meet Prompto. He had taken that person's place in the hope that he could feel _alive _for a little bit longer. But this wasn't what Prompto needed—he needed someone better than a parasite that would drain him of his light and turn him cynical. Someone that wouldn't drag him into his problems or use him as a cheap escape.

_What else can you do?_

His eyes began to sting. He reached up to take his glasses away, pulled in a deep breath and pinched the bridge of his nose to feign anything other than what he tried to resist.

He should have been able to face his fate on his own, but to know Prompto was to fly the open skies after so long within the bars of a cage. It was to glut oneself on water and avail in the shade of an oasis after wandering under the sweltering sun and across blistering sand. And so he continued to take, and take, and take. Continued to enjoy Prompto's company when he shouldn't have.

This would be found out, sooner or later. Whether the retribution would come from the gods themselves—_or the bloodline they serve_, he added in his mind—it would come. And it wouldn't satisfy them to punish him for his transgression, though he had obviously failed his duty. They would turn their sights on Prompto.

_But haven't they already?_ For Prompto to describe such an intense headache as a symptom of magic overload, it must have happened when he left to stop Noct earlier, when Ignis couldn't follow him. Ignis hadn't told him it could get that severe.

_It's too late for us. Is that it?_

He heard the others. Their footsteps weren't swallowed up by soft ground anymore. Gladio said his goodnight, and Prompto… Prompto stayed there.

Ignis wanted to say something. He wanted to say everything. He couldn't; where would he start? He'd already apologized earlier, and he couldn't repeat it. It wouldn't suffice, and that was before ever knowing what Noctis was capable of doing against Prompto.

So he turned back around.

Prompto could have met someone better than this.

* * *

This must have been what Gladio was talking about. Ignis not wanting to bother others. Prompto would be amused at how Gladio's advice and Christopher's sounded just about the same. To crack a smile right now over it felt inappropriate, though, so he quietly took their observations to heart.

He went over to Ignis's side, though made sure not to get into his personal bubble just yet. "Got something on your mind?"

"… Yes, to the surprise of absolutely no one." Ignis's half-smile only lasted a second.

"Anything you wanna talk about?"

"I'm not sure."

"Oh," very slow nods as Prompto looked elsewhere, "okay." He tried to push his words back down, but it didn't work. They were just behind his teeth, waiting for the slightest opening to come out. There were so many of them, so insistent he thought he might hurl them up. "It's not your fault," he said, to ease the pressure.

"Hm?"

"I know you're thinking it. It's not your fault," Prompto said again. The second time around was more insistent.

Ignis scoffed. "Whose could it be, then? Yours? You'd rather I blame you for my own weakness?"

"What happened to you wasn't because you were weak, and you know it. I _know _you know."

He looked as if it never crossed his mind to be blameless for someone else's behavior, then shrugged as if the idea were a momentary distraction from his guilt. "You say that, but if I were more resilient you wouldn't have had to leave me behind. Perhaps then…" He left the rest unsaid, though it was clear what he meant.

His affinity for magic was a double-edged sword. Strong though he was in his casting, he was susceptible to the same, and a liability whenever it overwhelmed him.

Prompto hadn't the heart to maintain a poisonous lie that the fault of it all fell squarely on Ignis's shoulders. That it was a great sin for him to fail in masking how much pain he'd been in. He didn't want to add those lies to the pile of them that the other had to live by.

"It's not something you can help. Okay? But I should've done something sooner so it didn't get that bad. If anyone should be sorry, it's me."

Ignis sighed, exasperation clear in the furrows of his brow. "Why do you do that?"

"Do what?"

"Apologize for things that you aren't responsible for?"

Prompto gave him a look as if he couldn't believe what he heard. "The hell!? You do that too!"

There was no other way to describe Ignis's expression outside of 'furiously confused'—it would have paired well with a profanity or two. He averted his gaze with a shifty glance and raised his hand to his mouth, and whatever he whispered must have been that. After a time, the look calmed. He gave it some consideration. There were small traces of a smile on his face when he took his hand away, as if he found something he didn't expect.

"That seems to be the case. But if it makes you feel better, you did nothing wrong. Only what you had to. More importantly… you kept your promise." Those faint traces grew into a full smile. "I've no reason to be upset at you."

Prompto let out a barely audible '_Huh…_' that understated his relief. "Then, what do we do now? I mean, what do you want to do?"

"I… I'm alright. I think I'd like to watch the stars for a while longer."

"Then, I'll stay too. M'not gonna leave you alone this time."

Ignis shook his head. "You don't _have_ to stay. We're safe here."

"Of course I don't have to. I _want_ to."

* * *

"You…?" Ignis was at a loss for words.

How could Prompto _say_ that, so cavalier with his insistence?

He held such allure to his words that the stars were further away than ever before, and it no longer mattered what the gods witnessed and what they acted upon. They could continue their sleep, or keep watching. Ignis didn't have it in him to care.

To be there when Prompto needed him was one thing, but to hear from Prompto's lips that he _wanted_ his company…

Ignis looked down at his own hand, then shut his eyes. Felt like he hadn't heard that in a while—not in a way that mattered. He knew they were only words that could be given out and rescinded in a blink. He _knew _that in any other world, or from any other person, they would be nothing more.

Prompto wasn't 'any other person', and what words he said sounded so full with meaning, with truth, that Ignis wanted to hold onto them. Onto every word, no matter how trivial.

After a time, Ignis reached out and offered his hand for Prompto to take it. "As you wish. Stay with me."

It would be easy to say that Prompto held onto his hand, but he did more than that. It was an iron grip, a yank, a fluid motion to counter the brunet's frankly graceless and surprised stumble.

Hands were at his hips. His own hands found the blond's shoulders. Their bodies were flush to each other. His own face was flushed in a markedly _different_ way.

"Like this?" The question skimmed his ear in a whisper.

Ignis had known cold before. Not of the outside that would bring his body to an outright shiver, but the kind that seeped into his bones. It could be fleeting, but more often than not it clung to him like Hell's ivies. He thought he was used to it. Deceived himself into thinking he was fine.

Yet that voice was sunlight condensed into sound. Fissures formed in the ice that enveloped him for so long, spread further in time to a rhythmic beating.

He released the breath he held in a word,

"_Yes_."

* * *

Ah, of all the things Prompto could be thinking about—a bit of advice came to mind that his father gave him when he was younger.

'_You see, things in this world come in three types: things we know, things we don't, and things we don't let ourselves know. What makes life interesting, and learning worth doing, is that everyone knows different things, instead of everyone knowing everything, or everyone knowing about the same exact little things._

'_Most of life falls into one or the other, and we know much less than we think we do. That's fine. __But the third one, that's tricky. Things we don't allow ourselves to know lies in the in-between, sitting right in the middle of actually knowing something, and not knowing it. If it were one or the other, life would be simple. For some people, it is: they could spend their entire lives not knowing, simply because it doesn't occur to them that they should know. _

'_Yet for some more than others, those things are what they're most sensitive to, and that is the reason why they're unhappy. There's something that they feel they should know, but they don't know what it is, and they don't even know why they don't know. As if there is a shield keeping them from it. And even worse, they're angry at themselves because they think that not knowing means they're stupid, as if the truth laughs at them while they aren't looking. _

'_Those times, you must forgive yourself for not knowing. Trust that it won't last forever, and there will be a right time to learn that particular truth, whatever it is._'

He was pretty sure his dad liked handing out such esoteric-sounding bits of life lessons that he would have rocked a red-and-white striped hat around the house if he could get away with it. Even so, every now and then Prompto would wonder if his dad was right about that.

And right now, it felt true.

Ignis sounded like he had less of a burden on him than before. Either he'd just discovered that hidden thing, or at least forgiven himself for not knowing it.

Prompto smiled. "Good. I already kept that last promise, so I'm gonna make another one."

"You will? What is it?"

"Whatever you need, I'll give it, or I'll do my best to get it for you. I'll stay with you for as long as you need me."

"Hm-hm. Shouldn't _I _be saying that…?"

"You did, and it's my turn now. Don't like it, then tough luck for you." Prompto stuck his tongue out, though he knew Ignis wouldn't see it. The brunet had keen enough senses that he would be able to tell anyway. "And just because you asked that, I'm making a correction. Even if you don't need me, I'll _still _be around. You won't be rid of me, ever."

Ignis let out an exaggerated sigh. "I was hoping I would be. What do we do when I don't have things to worry over? Like right now, for example?"

"I could think of a few things. _Especially_ for right now." There was a conspicuously conspiratorial note and matching grin to that claim.

"Wha…?" It dawned on Ignis what the blond meant, and he turned his head away so that Prompto wouldn't feel what his words had done. "Right now? Here of all places? That's indecent."

"If that's your _only_ objection, then I'd say I'm doing great so far."

"You're not, I assure you." He adjusted his glasses.

"Mm, sure."

After a while, Ignis drew away and loosened his hold. "I would like to ask you a question, but I," a brief pause to clear his throat. "I wouldn't want to be rude."

The spots around the blond's shoulders felt noticeably colder without his friend's hands there. He shrugged that feeling away. "What's there to be rude about? Ask whatever you want."

Ignis's gaze lowered and went off to the side. He briefly scanned the ground below before he took in the sight of Prompto once more. "What brought you here?"

Prompto blinked. Two times. Three times. "Wow, that _is _kind of a personal thing, but… lemme think about it."

"Take your time."

A moment, and the blond came to the conclusion he needed about what to say.

"… I'd say it was about, uh," he let go of Ignis in order to count something on his fingers, "two decades ago, right, and so a dude hooked up with a chick," he held up his index fingers, "they hit it off," he brought his fingers together, "probably rented out a hotel room, clothes came off and—"

Ignis's hand closed over Prompto's mouth to stop any further description. He looked surprised with himself that he allowed that joke to get so far. "That's not what I meant and you know it."

Prompto couldn't deny that he had spent enough time around Ignis to note the ways he would express his amusement. A short and barely perceptible huff when he found a joke funny but thought himself 'too cool' to admit to it in the moment, for instance.

Then there was his usual stifled laugh, that sound of ice cracking underfoot that wouldn't give in just yet, or chuckles that came in groups of two or three thanks to a play on words dropped so long ago that he should have forgot it in the rush of his life and day-to-day demands, but instead it clung to his mind and came back when he least expected it, to remind him it'd been said at all.

Then there were those hearty, breathless laughs that made his eyes spark with light and tears, that made him drop the 'cool' act and instead find something to use for a support before the strength left his limbs and he wound up with a headache.

Maybe they were small details in the grand scheme of things, but Prompto held those moments close to his heart regardless. Whenever Ignis laughed, the world felt like a safer place to be in.

Right now, it was. He watched as Ignis suppressed his laughs by keeping his mouth tightly closed, but it showed in his eyes and the way his shoulders shook, and tilted his head down and gestured '_No_', as if denial of the way the joke struck would make it less funny. That wouldn't work. He tried that before, many times.

Prompto pulled the hand away from his mouth. "Hey, you asked me how I got here and so I started from the top. I wanted to be thorough, give me some credit."

Another shake, and there was a soft whisper that sounded like a curse word in resignation that that would be one more joke for the retainer to laugh at in the future. "I will, I will. All in due time. But I meant to ask… what motivated you to join the Crownsguard."

Prompto's mouth formed an 'Oh' of surprise. He'd never told Ignis about why.

To tell him now, or not?

On the one hand, it wouldn't hurt. On the other, Ignis needed a break from sad talk; for Prompto to mention his parents' reasoning for wanting him here would make it go that route.

He took a breath and said, "Here goes… I did it for the fame."

There was a look on Ignis's face that said he wasn't expecting those words to come out of Prompto's mouth. "What…?"

"What what?" The blond crossed his arms and tilted his chin out. "C'mon. Don't tell me _you _didn't think about it. Being Crownsguard, protecting the Prince of Lucis of all people? We've had so much stuff happen to us so far just because, I'd get _all _the ladies flocking to me if I told even half of the story."

Now the retainer didn't know whether to be offended or amused. He settled for mock skepticism as he mirrored his friend. "You know you wouldn't be able to tell anyone who the Prince is."

"Wasn't planning on it; I just gotta tell them I'm in his retinue, that's all."

"And just where in the world would you think of telling '_all the ladies_' about your wondrous adventures?" He even hooked his fingers to form quotation marks.

"Pshhh! A _bar_, of course! Where else would I go to pick up chicks?"

"Well then, if ever the occasion arises where you do go to a bar, do inform me. I would _love _to see the bartender ask for your identification before you even get to sit down."

"Wha— _no, _they wouldn't bother. How old do I look to you?"

Ignis lowered his glasses as if to get an unobstructed look at Prompto. "Barely enough to grow a full beard."

"Oh, that's _low._ I may have my boyish good looks about me," Prompto lightly grazed his own fingers along his cheek and jaw for emphasis, "but I'm plenty mature-looking. And talk about _me_ not growing a beard. Hmph. What about _you?_"

Ignis was silent, and did nothing more than maintain eye contact.

Prompto got the distinct feeling that he had no idea what he was in for. Or, less idea than before, anyway. He watched with rapt attention as Ignis guided his hand to touch the lower part of his face. The blond tried in vain to quell the thought that his very dear friend sported the jawline of a god, and at best only replaced the thought with something else when his fingertips skimmed the skin there and felt the faintest traces of stubble just growing in.

"Holy shit," he gasped. All this time he thought Iggy never had facial hair at all, when it turned out he was so meticulous about his grooming that any sign of a beard reached mythical status, like Prompto's chances of getting with Cindy. ( _Ooo, self-burn!_ ) "No fair,. This is so unfair."

"Mm? It's nothing to be upset over. The constant maintenance is a bother at times …" Ignis trailed off, having sensed a vested interest in that area from the roaming gaze.

And yes, that was exactly what it was. Prompto was _examining _him at this point. He gently turned Ignis's head from side to side to see more of him, and his gaze went further down too, noting the stray little hairs and miniscule razor bumps. And were those— were those _freckles? _Ignis had _freckles? _This was unfair!

"If you could finish your study of me sometime _before_ I die of old age? It'd be greatly appreciated."

"Appreciation? Trust me, you won't know what it is until I'm finished."

Ignis tried to wrap his agreement in the pretense of a serious internal debate and begrudging acceptance. "I suppose I'll be _nice_ to you and let you do this, then," he said. "Just this once. Don't think this situation will repeat itself."

"Sweet as always."

"Me, _sweet? _You're one to talk. I can't believe you ever thought you needed a break from being you."

"What's hard to believe about that?"

"I would have thought it the easiest thing ever. Even I could do it. Lighten my hair, wear more casual clothing, toss an _unbearable_ amount of puns into my speech…"

Prompto hummed in a way that said he suspected a motive to that claim. He concluded his study, and it was a complete _accident_ ( of course, perfectly, believably so ) that he guided Ignis so that their eyes met. "What are you trying to say?"

"What I mean to say is that… perhaps I would do well to take a break from being me. At least certain parts of it."

Prompto grinned. "Take all the time you need for that. You don't have to worry about a thing."

"Mm? Are you suggesting that you'll be me in my place?"

"Nuh-uh. Not this time. I'll still be here, being me. I'm just saying, whoever it is you are when you're not you, I'm pretty sure I'll like that guy too."

* * *

Hold on a second. _That guy, too?_ Ignis was positive that his heart hammered against his ribs loud enough that Prompto could hear it with his own ears. He tried to mask the repetitive thumping with, "A-are you sure? What if that person is insufferable?"

Another laugh from Prompto. Closer, warmer, one that Ignis hadn't realized he craved to hear until it happened.

"You kidding? I'd let him know. I wouldn't hide it if he's annoying or anything."

Truest words ever spoken. Ignis _almost_ felt bad for smiling. Not even royal status protected someone from hearing what Prompto thought about them. That choice greeting Prompto had for Noctis came to mind—when it first happened, Ignis had sworn that time had stopped and his own jaw slackened at the same time as Gladio muttered '_Newbie…_' in disappointment.

It wasn't a one-time thing either; he very notably earned his spot in Miss Aurum's good graces during the map incident by both apologizing for Noctis's faux pas and calling him a dipshit in the same sentence. Noctis wasn't happy. Prompto couldn't care less. That was just who he was. He wasn't one for empty words; each time he spoke, he offered a part of himself to whoever listened. To say what he thought and feel what emotions surfaced… to be someone like that in a world like this, it should have been difficult, but he made it seem effortless instead.

He made it all worth it.

"Besides," Prompto added, "that other guy couldn't be more annoying than you _already_ are."

Wait. "What!?"

Even Prompto's afterimage had a shit-eating grin on it, the bastard! The blond had warped clear out of the way of a good _thwap _to the head. "Gotta be faster than that!"

"What makes you think I'm not?"

Experience and memory, mostly. Not a lot of people could brag about having Prompto in their grasp unless he wanted to be there, but he was going to make Ignis work for it this time. It 'helped' that the chase was odd from the start—neither of them were going their fastest for fear of making too much noise. Prompto bounded around the campfire with loping and playful strides, and Ignis was paces behind with a leisure that said he was in no rush at all.

They got nowhere fast. They circled the haven many times with no progress, and whenever Iggy tried faking Prompto out and moving in the opposite direction, Prompto would reverse course and they were back at square one.

The flame that rolled and flickered in its pit gave the light in the blond's eyes more life than usual, or it could have been that his mischief finally gained sentience of its own in there, and it thought it appropriate to dance around in victory. At the sight of Ignis actually stopping, Prompto showed he wasn't above doing a triumphant shuffle himself.

"What's wrong, Iggy, can't keep up?"

Ignis stood in place, and his eyes roamed along what they would of the younger man. "That's what you think."

"Heheh! Figures you'd wanna deny it." Prompto shuffled even more jovially. "I win, as usu—"

A split-second was allowed the blond to register the ghostly outline where Ignis used to be before their bodies were flush to each other like before.

Ignis reached up to remove his glasses. He could have dispersed them into crystalline shards, stored it into the thin air where most of the group's items would go. But this was slower, more deliberate. He set them back so they were sitting at the top of his head, which he didn't usually do.

"You were saying?"

Prompto got such a stunning view of sage green eyes that what words he had to say crashed into each other and piled up into a terrible wreck, and what came rolling out of the shambles of ideas was a lonesome and soft, "C-can we, uhm, can we call this a tie?"

"We _could_." Ignis had other ideas.

At such confidence, Prompto pouted like he remembered he was supposed to be irritated. "See, you had to say it like _that, _and now I don't wanna do that anymore. Matter-of-fact, I still win. You _cheated_."

"Did I?"

"Yeah. Warping is totally cheating."

"I beg to differ. Using what means you have at your disposal in order to win isn't cheating—it's an efficient use of your skills."

"Spoken like a true trickster."

"Takes one to know one."

Prompto averted his gaze. The smile that tugged at the corners of his mouth wasn't indicative of a damned thing, if you asked him.

"Now, about what you said earlier…"

Prompto looked back up. "What—about you being annoying?"

"Yes. I'd appreciate it if you took those words back."

"No can do." He shook his head. "They're already out there. I mean, I gave 'em to you."

"Ah~… So now that I have your words, it's up to _me_ to put them back?"

"Mm-hmm."

Ignis considered the pros and cons of that option. "Suppose that I decide I don't want to part with them after all? At least, not permanently."

"I dunno… how would you do that?"

Before he gave his answer, Ignis looked back to the fire and wordlessly cast a gust of wind to put it out, and everything went dark.

A gloved hand found its place at the small of Prompto's back, and the other curled under his chin and kept his head up. He felt the brush of soft skin and warm breath that made his nerves alight with elation.

It was delicate and riveting, that scent that came to him of lilies and sweet herbs. He couldn't recall ever being close enough to note that Ignis smelled like that. Maybe he'd been too preoccupied before.

There were so many things he didn't know about Ignis. He didn't mind not knowing; ideally, Ignis would open up to him when he was ready and no sooner. It was stuff that plain _made sense_ for the blond not to know until now.

Like how Ignis's touch made their surroundings fall away until there was nothing else but them. How their lips met once, twice, each time slower than the last until he stayed. He kissed as if he had all the time in the world and would put every second to good use as he explored. Time would just have to wait for him to finish this particular study.

Like how Ignis held on to Prompto as if he would slip through his fingers otherwise, vanish like a wisp. A hold so firm that for a fraction of a second, Prompto entertained the idea that it _was_ possible he could vanish and gods, no, he didn't want that. That'd mean this moment would be over! And it was just getting good. Wait, it was always good. Started that way and kept on going.

Like how easy Ignis made it for Prompto to want him right back. The blond ran his fingers through soft, dark hair, and he cradled the back of Ignis's head. He thought it an appropriate sign to keep it up. Instead he got more; their tongues met and, yep, he was a goner. Absolutely, positively doomed. He didn't bother wondering what had taken them so long, and instead questioned how it could be so perfect. That must've been Ignis's fault too, or another one of his many useful skills for a more charitable look. He made a note to self to blame him for it when this was over, but that wouldn't be for a while.

He should have worried: there were things to do in the morning. Should have worried. Didn't. Morning hadn't arrived yet, and whatever it thought to bring with it, worries and stresses and whatever else, that'd have to wait for its turn. For now, everything in the world was all right.


	10. Light

**Author's Note: **Ta-da~! Another chapter, because there's still much to cover in this story. Hoping I can get back to taking only a week or two per chapter, but I'm not making a promise here. I might be up to more _Promnis_ though, eh? Eh? ;D ... I'll show myself out.

* * *

**Chapter 10: Light**

Activity picked up in the Via ad Caelum when news spread of the advance in schedule. The design of the hotel roof was palatial to begin with, and the array of tables and cozy lighting made it more so. More Imperial guests would arrive to check in to the hotel, informed of the updated plans for the treaty, but the last and most crucial guest would likely arrive in time for the day and night of the signing and no earlier.

The Emperor would be quick to return to his duties. The same would apply to anyone essential near him, and the celebrations would be left to dignitaries that the Empire could 'do without' for the time being.

That would all happen in due time. For now, arrangements were made for the guests already within the Crown City for them to stay the night, and Luna had a room to herself.

Compared to the master bedroom in Fenestella, this room was more opulent. That the bed she laid in was grand enough to fit three people comfortably was the start, and it was the kind she imagined would have belonged to her mother years ago, except even the pillows had pillows, and the duvet was thick with down feathers.

All the pillows but one were set on the floor, and the duvet was rolled up to the foot of the bed. Luna didn't need those—or not as much _of _those, for she was only one person. The bed size had made her think of home, but the warmth of the suite was artificial. The room felt empty, even with the mirror that took up space on the wall across from her, and the television in the corner, and the writing desk replete with stationery. Sumptuous to the eyes, but not much else.

The outside beckoned to her to come and fill her sight with glittering lamplights and neon signs. She went to the balcony and took in the buildings confined to a specific look, with only the signage and billboards differentiating them from the next high-rise. Buildings reached up to choke the skyline after they'd already trampled the ground beneath, and the Citadel was the only construct with enough space to breathe.

What caught her eye was a building across from the hotel. The top floors were empty save for a quartet of windows to one room. There was someone there in that office, one man that frantically paced from one side of the room to the other, fussed about papers being in order, properly signed, nothing left to chance, even in the dark. She watched, and couldn't help from where she stood. She watched, and her heart broke for that man who still worked even after his body had to be removed from the pavement just days prior.

The people of this city were safe from the plague and daemons. Even then, there were other ways to feel uncertain of the future and what it held, other ways that fear of the unknown caused a scramble to secure everything or else risk losing it all, or tethered them to things they should have long left behind. One struggle was replaced with another. Yet the King would call this a comfortable existence, that the people should have been grateful that they could afford to spend their lives slaving away at their job instead of huddled in their homes with doors sealed tight, waiting for the sunlight to come.

A plaintive whine sounded from behind her. Pryna had made herself at home on the discarded pillows, with a notebook under her paws.

"For me?" Luna smiled, and approached her Messenger. She ran her fingers through frost-colored fur, and brushed a patch that felt shorter than the others. Oh, no, _that_ wasn't a good sign. "Were you teasing your brother again? You know how he tends to react to that."

Pryna hid her muzzle under her paws in mimicry of guilt.

"But you didn't leave it at that, I hope?"

Pryna lifted her head and wagged her tail in confidence that somewhere out there, Umbra was licking his wounds and sporting a new bald spot. For now, she let up on her hold of the notebook.

Luna took it for herself, and flipped the book open to the most recently written page. An echo of joy and ache coursed through her that she couldn't stop; it happened on sight of the Star of Lucis symbol Noctis usually stamped as a letterhead.

He'd begun to do that years ago, a relatively innocuous inclusion to the notebooks—about as innocuous as an Insomnian crest could be, anyway. But under the symbol he wrote, 'Loyal to L', or sometimes 'L2L' if he wanted to get the point across with less writing. It was curious that he didn't specify what the L meant, and Luna once found herself compelled to ask him if it stood for 'Lucis', to which he answered, '_not exactly_'.

Ravus didn't believe for a second that the noise he'd heard Luna make was because she'd seen a spider, and she knew that he knew that was far from the reason, but he pretended to be convinced of her claim. Enough to order a few Imperial patrolmen to inspect the room _thoroughly_ for anything that could crawl.

By the end of it, the only things that fit the definition were the patrolmen's stomachs; so perturbed were they by the relentlessly clean look and feel and scent of _everything _that they felt remorse for touching any of the princess's belongings, like they could see their own fingerprints on whatever they'd touched even through their gloves. They made motions that they didn't want to be assigned to inspect the Princess's room again regardless of what she would scream about.

The patrolmen often communicated by gestures and head-shakes, and it sufficed for most 'conversations' they would have, but the event was rare enough that one of them was moved to speak _audibly. _The voice that sounded out from the reflective Imperial helm gave Luna helpful advice; an overwhelming majority of spiders weren't venomous at all, so the best way to get rid of them was to assist them in crawling out of the window and let them be. That, and they made beautiful, mesmerizing webs. Luna kept the soldier's advice in mind for whenever she'd need it, and doubted that she would forget they were said at all. That Imperial sounded so young.

For now, she sighed and ran her thumb along the ink of the symbol stamped at the top center of the page. It was too long since she had actually seen Noctis in person. They were only children back then. He sent photos from time to time so that she wouldn't forget what he looked like, and she wished she could do the same. Their exchanges always felt incomplete in that way, but she put that out of mind to focus on what he'd written.

_－ __I got your letter. Try not to worry so much over me, okay? I'm fine. At least, I'm fine at the minute I'm writing to you, but in case this reaches you while I'm in a tough spot, let me write in advance: AAAAAHHHHH. Help! Ow, I've been hit! I need a Potion! Prompto's knocked out for the fifth time today, and it's not even noon! Close enough to noon that Iggy is cooking lunch, though. Gladio's off in the distance flexing, and Umbra's probably taking a nap somewhere instead of helping out, ugh. Reminds me of me._

… _hehehehehe. _（｀∀｀ ）

Luna found herself stifling a laugh in time with his. He had a knack for wrangling humor out of a situation like that, even at his own expense.

_－ __Anyway, glad the Nifs are finally letting you have some time to yourself, even if it's for a little while. We'll meet up with you soon. None of the group's tried out Maagho's either, so I can't wait for Ignis's reaction to it. He'll probably write down a recipe list for his own take on whatever meal they have. And I mean, he'll write it right there. He's done it before at Takka's, and it's so annoying. He could at least wait 'til we're someplace else. Can't deny inspiration, I guess? _

_At any rate, he says he's glad he can stop praying for you. Says his knees were aching. I bet he's dying for the chance to have you try out his cooking, though. I know him better than he thinks he does._

Ah, Luna could imagine Ignis's commentary on the subject. The way Noctis wrote about him, there had to have been a sense of pride in the young man; that was the only reason she could think of as to why they could talk so much about his culinary skills but no one thought to send her a bento via Umbra as if it were already out of the question. They _could _do it_, _but no one did. Likely that Ignis elected to make meals for his guests in situ so that he could see their faces. If she believed what Prompto wrote in _his_ letters, Ignis valued reactions.

Yet even with that, Luna recalled the demeanor she gleaned from Ignis's own letters, from years ago. He seemed… lost, hurried. Far from sloppy in terms of his penmanship, but there was a sense that he wanted the words out before he rethought them. He was otherwise cordial and no doubt a pleasant person to share space with, but whatever it was that was on his mind or in his heart, Luna didn't know for certain. Only that he worked for Noctis for as long as he cared to remember, and that he signed his letters with a line or two through his name.

She had sent him a pressed zealblossom, once. _I wish not to presume overmuch of your situation,_ she wrote, _but if ever you find yourself in need of a listening ear, I can provide it. You have my word as Priestess that what is said stays between us. Simply hold the image of this flower in mind, and one of my Messengers will come to pick up the letter._

They shared correspondence every few months or so after that, and she gave what advice she could whenever he said he needed it. The personal letters stopped a couple of years ago, with a letter of thanks from him for her help. It had a clearer signature, and no strike through. Whatever happened in that time must have served to clear the turmoil, and the photo she got from Noctis of his 'official retinue' allowed her to make an educated guess as to what happened, given the addition of their newest recruit and how comfortable Ignis couldn't help but look around him.

She kept reading.

_－ __Lakshmi painting, photos, got it. We'll keep it in mind. Prompto appreciates the shout-out. Surprised he didn't hide at the mention of ghosts, though. Can you believe he thinks zombies are real? I'd get it if he were scared of people that never look up from their phones all day __－__ those types of zombies are something to worry about __－__ but the shambling, bitey ones? Everyone knows those are fake!_

… _but just in case they are real, remember. The plan is to take my old man's boat, and we can live off of the ocean forever. No one's ever heard of zombies being able to swim, much less zombie fish. We'd be set for life._

Wait, what was that he wrote? Prompto being scared of ghosts? Those didn't frighten him, she knew that much. But what was that about zombies? Luna blinked, and reread the words. "Pryna, did _you _know about this?"

Pryna huffed and made a noise that sounded like '_No_'.

Hmm. Perhaps Noct meant some other term, or Luna was reading it wrong? The type of temperament that leapt out of the ink of the blond's letters didn't appear to be the same that would be scared of… what was it again? Undead? Although it must have evened out with a subconscious talent to transfer those feelings into someone else; Luna certainly found herself fearing _for _him at times_. _She wasn't sure how early an age she could suffer from heart palpitations, but he tested that with earnest tales of his nightcrawls in the Crown City and the incidents where he was almost caught.

Easy to determine from there that he possessed an undeniably vibrant and restless spirit, and things were alright so long as he caused no harm to anyone else, but the chance that he would be hurt was too great in exchange; he once told her of an early afternoon when he attempted to help an elderly man with a cane. He tried to help because the man seemed lonely, and then it was nighttime, and he had to run home before his parents worried about him, in that exact order. He didn't write of his encounter with the man because he couldn't _remember_ it, no matter how hard he tried to. Only that the man was there, and then he wasn't, and the time in between had blinked past.

_Are you alright? _She asked him in the note afterward. _Would it be best if I sent Pryna to stay with you, and find that man? _

He likely shrugged at the question. His words gave the impression that he did. _Nah, you don't have to do that. I'm okay, I don't feel any different. Maybe it was a ghost? I've seen some before. Anyway, it isn't a big deal. _

Whatever it was that happened to him, there would be an opportunity to know for herself once the treaty was finally signed.

With that in mind, she smiled at Noctis's commentary. How could she forget of all the plans they'd discussed in late evening letters? If there were ever end-times or extreme weather scenarios that could be conceived, Noctis had thought of it. His most elaborate ones were fueled by the low-budget retellings of the Six's history, with lackluster special effects and rubber suits and painted people suspended by strings.

In those plans, the Stormsender's scenario was the most benign of 'crises' to thwart, with the Tidemother's and Frostbearer's being the worst, the Pyreburner's a non-issue because he was dead, and the Landforger's sitting in the grey area between a mild inconvenience and a three-in-the-morning epiphany that the civilization of Solheim was never destroyed, they instead became an underground society of mole people.

Luna didn't _want_ to put an end to all the speculations, but she did politely remind Noctis that she could _talk_ to the gods and avert those events entirely.

Sure enough, he found something else to stay up all night about. She supposed she couldn't take that away from him. He believed a lot of strange things besides that.

'_Did you know monsters come from the moon? My dad told me that,_' he'd said once, twelve years ago.

'_Are you sure?_'

'_Yeah, of course! Why would my dad lie?_'

'_I don't know, but hearing that worries me… I can't believe that. That's where my name comes from._'

The detail puzzled him. '_You were born on the moon?_'

'_No, no! I mean I was named after the moon. "Luna" means "Moon". Silly…_'

She saw the whites around his irises for a fraction of a second before he settled for a huff of air and set his sights again on what was outside of the window. '_Heh! I knew that,_' he said. '_It was a test, I was testing you, that's all. Wanted to see if you knew._'

'_Mm~hmm~._' If the skeptical look she shot at him then were still on her face to this day, she wouldn't have been surprised. It'd take willpower to keep it up now, though; the memory brought a smile to her face instead. Those were better times.

( Except for the part where Ravus had overheard the chat and later tried to convince Noct that Luna truly was a little Moon Monster, and that she arrived to the family on a floating saucer. His 'proof' was to draw a little blue alien and add her hairstyle to it, and Noctis almost believed him. )

She continued.

_－ __Gladio doesn't wanna admit it, but he misses Iris too. I'm glad you're telling him something. I'd do it myself, but he'd probably brush it off and say everything's fine and that she's just busy. Never realized being Junior Crownsguard was so demanding. Thinking about it, I should've tried to pull some strings to bring her along on this trip; if she were here, you'd be able to write to her too._

Luna was sure that Iris would have loved to go on an adventure with them, but she had to admit that what details she knew of Iris were ones she received in writing and not from the girl herself.

Gladiolus had sent letters of his own to Luna as well, unexpected ones that made Gentiana tease her about her fame and adoring fanbase. In the letters, the eldest Amicitia came off as warm-tempered, and he was surprisingly the most nervous of the four when it came to asking for advice, even compared to Ignis's trepidation over the thought of disturbing her and her work. There was a sense of clumsiness to the Shield's words that brought to mind a clear image of him scratching at the back of his head, trying to muster up more nerve in a letter than he'd ever need to ask someone out face to face.

The central topic to the notes was a simple and yet complex matter. While Iris was devoted to her training, Gladiolus wanted to acknowledge her efforts without blithely treating her like just a miniature version of himself in situations where they had little in common. In one case, he wanted to give her a Moguri doll for her birthday to bring up her spirits, but the kind she deserved to have wasn't the kind anyone sold; the toy slumped over in the display window of Little Palom's Toyshop labeled as the western 'Moogle' had too-long limbs, a bean-shaped body, patchwork furs, and a spring-steeled puffy pom-pom, and the spring looked like it was made out of a coat-hanger wire. The competing shop of Little Eiko's had the cuter 'Moguri' doll with a larger head, a round body and crystal bobble.

Gladiolus would rather fall on his own sword than buy Iris a low-quality doll, but the real thing cost a fortune. An easily missable fortune that he wouldn't allow their attendant to shoulder, hence it'd be accounted for and give his father yet another reason to raise his voice during dinner in the same old tirade about how an Amicitia had no use for frivolous and soft things and that entertaining it was a futile effort. The backhanded remark that Iris wouldn't stay a child forever would hit Gladiolus like a truck and run the idea over, and then hit reverse and run over it again. He hated to think about how Iris felt, being talked about like she wasn't even there.

He realized how much he'd written about that when he hit the last quarter of the letter. Rather than strike the whole thing through and agonize about how to reword it, he added a written apology in postscript for saddling Luna with so much detail about his family life and 'spilling his guts'. He valued her insight, given that she and Iris were both little sisters and Gladio was pointedly not one.

_You needn't worry about the monetary value of your gift; your good intentions will show through regardless of how much you spend on it, _she advised him_. And believe me, her love for her favorite brother will ensure that she doesn't throw away the gift, even ten years from now. _

But perhaps she cheated in giving that advice. For one, she was a few sentences into the note before an idea took hold, and she sent Gentiana on a trip south to the forests of Zoldara to find a very specific something. After that something was found, Luna finished the note, added a postscript ( _His name is Artemision—take good care of him _), and sent it with that certain thing, along with freshly picked fruits.

Gladio's following letter was a photo of Iris, delight showing from ear to ear with her present in a vise grip in her arms. Below the photo was Gladio's handwriting, a single, bewildered, _How did you do that?_

Luna replied with, _That's a secret for now._

Fun secrets aside, she would have liked to meet Iris in person, for they would've gotten along well. Now, with all that's happened, all she could do was hope that Gladiolus wasn't too beset with regret, whether he had followed her advice or not.

There was more to the letter—she'd reached the point where Noct began to write to her personally and not on behalf of the others—but a knock on the door drew her gaze up from the pages. The rest of the letter would have to wait. She handed the book to Pryna and dismissed the Messenger with a wave of her hand.

Had Prince Noctis come to see her? That would rely on the King allowing him to leave the Citadel, and she couldn't imagine such leniency from a man like that. A glimpse through the door viewer gave her a more _expected_ option for who was on the other side, however.

Luna opened the door and stepped out to greet Prince Asterid, and pulled the door again so that it was almost shut behind her. "I wasn't expecting you at this hour. Is something the matter?"

"Ah, no, nothing of the sort." He sounded more preoccupied than he usually did. Judging from the roam of his gaze over her in her simple chemise, her hair down and brushing her shoulders, she'd gotten his attention. "I'm getting the impression that I showed up at the wrong time," he added.

"Not the wrong time, necessarily, but I'd have thought you retired to your quarters."

Asterid dismissed the notion with a shake of his head. "I decided against that. To spend most of my time confined to one place, and then go to a place I haven't been in and confine myself on my own? I'll take advantage of the opportunity I have, instead."

"Then, why come _here?_" She asked. Counterproductive to talk of exploring the unexplored only to sidetrack the trip by going to visit someone within the same confines. "Couldn't be to gloat, could it?"

Another shake of his head. "Not my intention. I'm here because sightseeing is better with company." He offered his right hand, palm facing up. "I was wondering if you wanted to join me? After all, we're no longer under Imperial watch."

Luna looked to the offered hand, then at the man who held it out.

In their travels here, he was dressed in the Empire's colors, with the coat that was more blue than it was white or red, and a sword at his side. But he had changed out of that, and dressed in a black button-down and jeans. Without the Imperial regalia to mask his youth, he didn't look much older than her. He dressed with some intent to blend in; whether anyone would recognize him by face had yet to be seen. Perhaps no one would suspect of who he really was, for the way he carried himself suggested no great deception was going on.

If she refused his offer…

If she refused his offer, what else would she be able to do? She was already far from the ailing that needed her help. There was even less opportunity to see those who weren't sick from the plague—the driver that escorted her to the Via ad Caelum expressly refused to take her to the hospital. First he cited that _she _wasn't sick, so the trip would be redundant, and then that it would be for her own safety that she not catch anything her magic couldn't fix. She didn't press the issue further, for his sake. He just wanted to do his job and leave, gods forbid the King reprimand him while she wasn't looking.

Officially or not, her duties as the Priestess of Tenebrae were in a momentary suspension. Perhaps if the King were capable of such a thing, then the advance in schedule could be construed as a curious way of showing he was being _considerate _of her duties. More likely that he was trying to get her out of the city as soon as possible, and didn't care where she went after this was over.

It'd have to be as Crowe said, wouldn't it? Addressing the needs of the people would be the King's job. Until the Treaty was signed, Luna was neither Priestess nor Princess, but a guest to the City. As for the ones that needed her, she would be with them soon.

So she extended her free hand, and her palm settled onto Asterid's with all the softness of a feather alighting to ground after so long adrift on wind. As her fingers closed around his wrist, she found his touch warmer than what she expected—it was as if the harsh winters of Niflheim had come nowhere close to him, even with the Glacian's 'gift' left on their continent that forced them into heavy coats and multiple layers.

"I accept," she said. "But I am curious… you say 'we', as if you don't count as one of them."

He flashed a smile that brought to mind the sun under cloud cover. "Oftentimes I don't feel like I do_, _but that's only me. What matters here is whether _you_ count me as an Imperial. Do you?"

Luna allowed a smile of her own to spread across her face, small but bright like a sliver of moon on a midnight sky. "That's for me to know and you to find out. Or perhaps you already have the answer to that. Now, I should get ready. Excuse me for a moment?"

"Oh, of course. Take your time."

In the seconds it took for her to step back into her room and close the door to him, he got a glimpse as to what was behind her. What little he saw amused him enough that Luna heard it in his voice,

"Were you _really_ not expecting me?"

The bed had been remade, and clothes laid out for Luna to change into.

She kept her sigh just short of audible. "Consider that something else to find out."

* * *

There was a chance the pride of Insomnia didn't lie in the glimmering Crystal at the heart of it, but in the resilience of the people's spirits. Or for the cynical, it was more about how _easily_ the outrages of the day could be buried and momentarily forgotten for the sake of entertainment.

Above them, the dark of the sky was interrupted by the waves of energy that radiated out from the Star of Lucis, and at eye level, the slate streets were teeming with people, and the faded lettering on the ground that indicated where to go would only grow more faint over time with each step onto it.

Eateries had blackboard signs propped outside with their menus and prices written in chalk, or entire walls were painted to promote the meals from other cultures of greater Lucis. Hanging banners detailed an ongoing electronics sale and all its discounts in a nearby shop, or televisions hung above eye level did the same with text that flashed or scrolled. On some doors were signs like 'Cash only', or that the goods inside were 'Tax-free' to entice people to come in; other doors had clear age restrictions in bold lettering and literal red hands. There were freshly stuck posters on the walls with faces of idols, or worn out posters for performances that no longer played or for bands that had long since broken up.

The streets joined the greater Esterway like a tributary, and the people in them melded into the larger stream of visitors and natives. There were those that carried luggage behind them, or a shopping bag. There were those that glanced at signposts, empty-handed and lost, or whose meandering was as casual as their wear. There were those with suits, that strode on with total clarity on where they needed to go. There were those that cast shadows, and those that no longer could. They all had something in common—they didn't pay much attention as to who else was among them beyond what was necessary to avoid a collision, and if they did notice, they didn't say.

Luna glanced over the different signage and the occasional stray traffic cones barring a store that was still under construction. "Correct me if I am mistaken," she said, "but I thought your intention was to enjoy the city, not watch it all from the point of view of passersby?"

Asterid acknowledged that with a momentary tilt of his head, but was less concerned with anything on the ground as he was with what was above them. He looked so engrossed, that there was no other sign that he listened to Luna until he actually spoke. "There's value in getting a feel for things before diving in," he said. "And who's to say I don't know _exactly_ where I'm going?"

"Do you? You've never been to this city before."

He had reason to be concerned about the city's function, from what she could glean of his temperament in the Citadel. He possessed a trying level of sangfroid for those intolerant to it, but a current of anxiety leapt up like a spark when he walked into the throne room. Things were calmer, now, and she didn't feel that spark when she touched his hand earlier. He had his own reasons for coming here, all related to the same curiosity he admitted to.

She looked at a store lined from wall to wall with guitars that were new or used. "If immersing ourselves is the eventual goal, then walking into any store should suffice."

There was quiet at first. The prince's attention was elsewhere again. But he took his eyes away from whatever had gotten him to look, and smiled at her. "Immersion? You suggest that we jump in so that the water comes up to our shoulders, instead of us checking the temperature first?"

"It's an apt analogy, yes."

"You say that, but there's value in trepidation, wouldn't you agree? Being wary of the ocean's depths is what protects us from drowning."

"That sounds like a lesson learned from experience."

"I wouldn't go that far. I learned the lesson from a proficient tutor, is all. For now, we'll do as you suggest," he motioned lazily towards their surroundings. "Pick a place to go, and we'll head there."

"You're leaving this up to me?"

"Why wouldn't I?" He shrugged, and went back to gazing absently at the skybridge. "I trust your judgment."

To prove him wrong and break that trust wouldn't help either of them, so she looked around.

To the left of them were clothing stores and shoe racks. She checked the sign above the door that said '_Lulu's_', and then surveyed what was on display. The clothes were layered and frilly, boldly antiquated and reminiscent of home, except for the part where every item was **dark**.

Insomnia loved the color black. Loved it to the point where they had different shades of it. There was the 'true black' that was worn by the nobility and those associated, which left others to take up the gamut of off-black shades. From what Noct had told her, there was raisin, olive, ebony, charcoal, space, jet, licorice, onyx… all the shades named after food had an undertone of the respective food's color on a closer look, while the other shades sat on a sliding scale between the darkest gray and the second-to-darkest black. Then there was one shade of black that wasn't even a true _color_, but material manufactured for the sole purpose of unnerving anyone that looked at it—to any onlooker, whatever the material was placed on had been excised from reality itself so completely that it left nothing but a cartoonish void in its wake.

_How scary_, she thought then, and had written the same.

_Yeah, it is. I guess the eggheads that come up with this stuff don't have anything better to do, _Noct wrote back.

But all that aside, the dresses would better suit Gentiana, even the prominent one with multiple belts going across the skirt. Luna would stick to her whites and blues with the occasional black or gold, but from the reflection of herself that she caught in the glass of the storefront, the colors were still an option, but the styles she favored were not.

Instead she felt more aware than ever that her attendant had a terrible sense of humor. While she would have been partial to a long blouse with an asymmetrical hem and favored dresses that were much the same, her Messenger had other plans more adherent to their mutual acquaintance's, ahem, _preferences_.

Compared to the more revealing styles further west, a lace blouse and neck-tie paired with a miniskirt and mid-thigh socks was hardly the most scandalous choice in outfit, nor was it a neon sign pointing to the fact that she was the Princess of Tenebrae as opposed to someone who resembled that woman very much. For all intents and purposes, this was an effective way to hide in plain sight. She made a note to self anyway to give Gentiana a few stern words as soon as she and Asterid returned to their respective rooms, though.

But the Imperial Prince's mind was far away from focusing on something like that. He hadn't strayed much from what he was doing earlier, looking up at the architecture of the city.

_Everything about this place that I've learned before now has its exception. I should have kept that in mind before, but the Citadel has reminded me of it,_ he thought.

How could something as old as the Citadel have automatically opening doors? How long ago had that level of technology been installed? What other things were present in a fortress that looked so ancient? To go back in and ask someone would be foolish; they wouldn't entertain him with an answer without reporting his presence to the King, assuming anyone even knew when the place was even built as a basic fact. It would be more prudent just to see what Insomnia was like and make his judgments.

He would've liked to see a time-lapse of the city's architectural advancement, all things considered. It wasn't possible for it to be this modern since inception, so there had to be a transitionary period between the contemporary and the outdated. Nothing subtle, and even less pleasant; if there was room for the old-fashioned, any trace of wood houses or brick and mortar buildings, it had to have been where the least amount of people were at any given time to see it, or filled with certain _types_ of people that the King couldn't be moved to care about. But this was the business district—it would see a lot of traffic and even more money changing hands to funnel further development.

This part of the city was advanced to the level that no one in the Outlands would dream of. At best, they'd predict that it'd come to their cities and towns a hundred years out. Multiple skyscrapers disturbed the skyline, and there was an abundance of bridges to connect one building to another, whether the two were close by or across the street. Some looked out of place, like they were added in after the fact, at the heels of a buyout of a competing business. The bridges served to make the winner's spoils look like a cohesive unit. Other towers had the skybridges as part of their design from the beginning—one pair had a bridge twenty storeys up that looked as if a wedge had been cut right out of both buildings, turned outward, and then expanded from there until the respective sides met in the middle.

There was one a few blocks down, disconnected from any and all the buildings. It resembled a pipeline made of glass, from what he could see of it. It was a long way up to reach it, and it snaked along and followed the streets like an above-ground railway without the train. Was it built on the chance that there'd be no more space on the ground for anyone to walk? Sounded ridiculous, but given the amount of people around… he would estimate a generation or two before that was a possibility.

There had to have been a word or two to describe what the city was meant to be with all these… _decisions_, but the right words weren't there.

_Wait… _

_What __**is**_ _that? _

Asterid tried to figure out what was on the bridge. Something, or some_one,_ strode by the glass. The figure was tall and curved, pale-skinned and covered in black.

_The Princess's Messenger…?_

A numbness crept in pinpricks over his skin like he'd laid to rest in a bed of ants. A flush of conflicting temperatures warred in the pit of his stomach again.

_Why is __**she **__here? … Has she seen something? _

That figure disappeared, and a subdued laugh from close by stirred him free of his contemplation. _Mm? Right… The Priestess is here. That's all_. _A Messenger looking over her charge. It can't be anything more than that._

He brushed that strange feeling out of mind in hopes it would subside. It couldn't have been _fear_. That a servant of the gods could inspire that more than once was ridiculous. She held a blade to his throat before—there was no excuse for the same reaction now. It wasn't worth entertaining.

He let out a slow hiss of breath. Rubbed his arm to get himself to relax, and brought his thoughts and attention closer to earth. "You've found a place?" he asked, and looked to the arcade store where Luna had her sights. "Fitting…"

"Hm? What makes you say that?" Consider Luna intrigued. _She_ knew why she chose that place; the screen above the door showed off cutely-drawn heroines, and she recognized them from a shirt that Noctis used to wear. The recollection of the picture he'd taken with it made her laugh.

Asterid pressed the button for the crossing signal. "Well, it's easier to picture us being in an arcade instead of being in an adults-only store," he said.

The response of _Isn't every store now an adults-only store? _was one that Luna quashed as soon as she heard it come to mind; _Noct_ would have asked that were he here, and that alone was evidence that they had far too many letters between each other, _if _there were such a thing as 'too many letters'. There wouldn't be a great number remaining if he destroyed the older notebooks.

Asterid interpreted her silence to the remark in his own way. "Don't tell me you're thinking of it…?"

"The merits were worth taking into consideration." She smiled as if there were nothing amiss with what she said.

"_Ehm…_ hold on, _merits?_" The way he asked that, _everything _sounded wrong about her statement.

The crossing light turned a solid green.

"Of course. No one would think of looking for us there," she said, keeping in step with the flow of the other citizens.

"Suppose someone _did _think of it? The press would never stop writing about it," he countered. "One of us is to be married soon, unless my ears deceive me."

"Yes, and as mine do not deceive _me_, I have it on good authority that the other one of us is a known bachelor, and could 'neither confirm nor deny' an interest in a certain someone? Perhaps truth will come to light that he has a type _and _enjoys the freedom of being unmarried?"

Said bachelor was the picture definition of nonplussed.

"Ah, what is that on your face?" Luna teased.

Asterid turned away from her so that the fluster her words caused couldn't reach him. ( It wouldn't work. ) "It's nothing."

The arcade had as much order to it as the rest of the buildings outside. The prize room took up some of the ground floor with shelves and cases lined with resin figures or plush toys, and whatever wasn't a glass case of prizes was a claw machine or _Creature Catcher _crane game instead.

The sheer number of available things to look at or play with made the ground floor look cramped at first sight, but the size of the store made up for it; that the arcade occupied more floors than just one was taken advantage of. There was no end to the neon lights and roller coaster of noise, short of the power going completely out in the area.

The _Creature Catcher_ games took up more space than the other types of claw games and vending machines, and they tempted onlookers with their prizes, how close they were to metallic claw tips and the deft control of a human. The cute and rounded shapes of monsters that had flesh and blood counterparts in the wild were all in position to entice the player to them.

Asterid noted that the chocobo plushes came in various colors—green, red, blue, even the rare black or classic yellow. "All these types are rare back home. Not many that can survive the cold unassisted. But there are rumors of a specific one, just one, that wanders the mountains. It's said to have pure white feathers, and it's larger than the domesticated kinds. It comes to the aid of lost travelers and leaves as quickly as it appears. I've heard it even has a glow, like an angel or a ghost."

"Do you believe all that?" Luna couldn't hide how amused she was at how he could go into details.

He looked her in the eyes. "No," he said flatly. "Anyone that claims to have seen it was likely suffering hypothermia and the hallucinations it comes with. But it's something to think about."

They went to the next machine, where winning was as simple as severing the string the prize was suspended on and letting it fall into the pit below. Keychains, capsules with small toys inside of them, boxes of stickers, rolls of stickers, bandages for minor cuts, rubber wristbands, and other small things with cute images of monsters on them. Aside from the stickers, the prizes didn't come off as tempting, so they went to the next claw machine.

That one had a prize pit that was more of one thing than the others, and Asterid couldn't resist observing what was in it. "That…" he pointed to the baby behemoth toys, "is just deceptive. How does someone get the idea for that? A cuddly toy based on something capable of impaling a human?"

"How not?" She leaned in to his space, all bright eyes and teasing smile. "Even the most menacing creatures started out small and defenseless."

Either he didn't mind, or did an exceptional job at hiding that he was bothered. "I'd have to disagree; the behemoth isn't capable of an infant stage, if you ask me." He shook his head. "It _popped_ into existence full-grown, ready to maim and kill for sport."

"Well then, if you say so," she conceded with ever the radiance to her expression. "The only way to prove either of us right would be to witness a baby behemoth in the wild, then we'd see if it _is _cute."

"Take that risk if you like," he said, no less amused by the thread of the conversation. He pointed to another toy inside the prize pit. "I'm not familiar with these mole-bats…"

"Ah," there was clear recognition in her tone, "it depends on where you are in the world. Here they're called _moguri._"

"Wait, those? They look… much different."

"So you _do_ know what they are?"

"I suppose, but not in that form." He covered his mouth in thought, and looked at the 'mole-bats' as if in deep speculation. "Back home, they have longer ears that stick up. They're more like hares. And they wear clothes."

"_Euh_ …Why would they wear clothes?"

"Why _not_ wear clothes? They're supposed to possess intelligence on par with a human, isn't that right? Anything that can talk like a human should dress like one. It's not like nudity is the default state for most person-to-person interactions. Even they would recognize that, wouldn't they?"

Luna looked mildly appalled at the idea that any non-human creature learned shame as a byproduct of sapience. "Well, _anyway_, if we were to leave Insomnia and go further west, they would call those _moogles._"

He'd forgive her for not continuing on the subject. "What would they call them in Tenebrae?"

"They're just _mogs._"

"That's… awfully simple. Why hasn't everywhere else adopted that term?"

"Ah, they can if they wish to."

"Right, yes, the usual ways people of the world deal with language." He pointed to the little cactus plush dolls. "And those?"

"In the west, they're _cactuars_, and here in the Crown City, it's more like '_sabotender_'."

"_Saboten_…?" Even as they spoke Somnian, that word and the naming choice stuck out as strange, enough that he tilted his head to the side.

"Yes, '_saboten_', and '_pretender_'." She lifted both pointer fingers to represent each word. "You put them together, and it's _sabotender. _Because it pretends to be a cactus."

"A more intuitive name than one would think." There was no more cloud cover in his smile. "Tell me more about the other creatures, if you'd like."

She went into detail as they continued to walk the ground floor: in Tenebrae, they called cactuars _pampa_, and in Accordo they were _kyactus_. As for the little blue aliens and their UFOs, they were _PuPu_ out west, _koyokoyo_ here and Accordo, and _Koyo K_ in Tenebrae. ( She directed a very thin and irritated smile at the blue aliens, and Asterid didn't know why. ) Behemoth had the distinction of being named the same just about everywhere, same with chocobos.

After the explanation was done, Asterid remarked, "How cute."

"The toys?"

He leaned in and whispered, "Your voice. It's more comfortable now, relaxed." He wondered where she learned that informal style from, as it sounded rather boyish, but the question would remain where it was for now. If it helped her fit in, then there would be no issue.

The tinge of color on her face didn't go unnoticed, but she would pass it off as exactly what it'd look like from afar. "If you're going to say something like that, you have to show that you mean it." She pressed her finger to the glass. "Get me a prize from here. I want this one." Among the mix of chocobo and moguri dolls, she pointed to one of many baby behemoths with its porcine snout and tuft of dark hair.

"Really?" He raised an eyebrow.

"Yeah, really," Luna insisted.

"Nn-nn." Asterid shook his head. "I don't trust these games."

"Oh, _now _you want to avoid them?" She gave a longing look to the plush forever out of her grasp, as if she'd already made illusions of a life with it, where she'd call it BB for obvious reasons and show it off to anyone that had a functioning set of eyes.

"Avoiding them and not playing the game is the only good choice here. There's no fun in a game where your win depends on when the machine is programmed to let you, and not whether you've earned it with skill."

"Aren't all games that way?" Luna tapped on the glass, as if the toys would be jostled from where they sat and come to life to reposition themselves.

"Sure, some are more blatant than others, but I'm curious as to what you mean."

"Obvious or not, _all _of them are run by computers now. They project 'chance' in a way that seems fair to the player."

"Hmm…"

"Take the games that track how well you perform, that adapt and grow more difficult until you lose. If knowing pre_cise_ly how the program functions lets you use its patterns to make it work in your favor, then that's a test of skill beyond what's on the screen. Think of it as _that_ type of challenge."

"You're saying that as a given, that anything can be manipulated to suit a function."

Her eyes brightened when he caught on. "What else would I be saying?"

The thread of that conversation slunk away and got lost in the crowd while the two of them searched for the rare claw game that Asterid would deem worth spending any tokens on. Luna took Asterid by the hand during their search, and pointed out the different variations or whether they gave any worthwhile rewards.

"You do realize that we have arcades at home, yes?" he asked.

"I do, but these could be different."

"How, aside from how they're written?"

"They… they simply could be, that's how!"

Such sound logic! He would raise no objection to _that._ ( Truth be told, he was growing more fond of her than before, especially at how resourceful she was. Were anyone else in her place, they would have shown more reservation about their surroundings and carried no sense of familiarity to it. Instead she was prepared and capable of playing to her strengths as a social figure.

It was _almost_ enough to make him consider crashing that upcoming wedding. )

"Suppose that we found the right game to play here… we have no tokens to begin with," he posited.

Luna stopped in her tracks, as if that hadn't once crossed her mind until now. "That's true."

"I'll get them, then, just wait here for me."

With her assent, his fingers slipped out of her grasp and left her hand to adjust to the comparative chill of the air around it.

There was a minute, uncomfortable shift from her, maybe from the cold, maybe from something more intangible than that. She stared into the glass of the machine but didn't look past it. The reflection that looked back at her was her in appearance.

She was no stranger to touch; to ease the pain of the plague-ridden, she would often place her hand on their skin and channel new life into them, light to purge the darkness of the disease. She had done that time and again, and there were other reasons than that for touch: as a greeting to children and adults alike, to reinforce her presence and the love she held for all of them.

But this was _different_ in a way that she found herself comparing to those close to her, and it stirred an ache that she couldn't explain.

Gentiana was naturally cold and unconcerned with the trappings of being human. Ravus wore gloves ever since he enlisted in the Imperial army, and he couldn't be the same brother whose worst sufferings were stepped toes in his efforts to teach her how to dance. Prince Noctis wore gloves as well, and was expected to as a Kingsglaive.

Being able to hold the Imperial Prince's hand was the first day in a long line of days that she could do that and not come away with bloodstains. Where there wasn't the expectation that she let go to hold onto the next set of hands, and the next.

This would be the point where Gentiana would arrive from the aether with a teasing remark or two. Questions that Luna should have known the answers to, and held in her heart. The notion that she was no different than everyone else in the world. Of course. She felt joy, grief, and hurt, and for that reason she couldn't fall into the same trap of hubris as the King of Lucis. Though the Fleuret bloodline had the blessings of the gods, it couldn't be a cause of distance between them and the people they served as if those powers placed the bloodline so far above others.

The people trusted her as they trusted each other, and she had to be grateful that there remained that light in the world, and for every spark of it that the people elected to extend to her. To hold someone's hand meant so much for such a simple act.

And yet, this instance _felt different_. Did it mean _more? _Better? She wasn't used to this.

The gentle jitter of a cup of tokens pulled her from her thoughts. When she turned her head toward the cause of that sound, lights and noise came back to her senses, and the arcade settled into being again.

"The machines _are_ coin-operated," came the absent musing, "but first-timers get a free memory card as part of a promotion." Asterid fished out a memory card from the cup. "I'm impressed. Not only is this place confident that it'll make the money back with repeat visits, but the clerk must be pretty experienced to know who she has and hasn't seen before."

"Then…?"

"I'd rather we look at the upper floors and see if this card will prove useful."

"That's no fun," she said. "There has to be something here that we can play." She even puffed her cheeks up, as if her irritation wasn't clear.

Asterid tried not to crack too wide a smile in response to her pout. "You make it sound like it would be wrong to check the different games? If there's anything worthwhile upstairs, we can spend the tokens there and you have fun. If not, we can always come back, and you can have your crane games and whatnot. Does that sound fair?"

He offered his hand for her to take, and all she did was look at it as if considering her options, like at the hotel. After a while, she closed her hand around his and held on tight, then led the way.

They left behind the prize floor and made it to the second, lined with… _more _crane games and _Creature Catchers_. The sideways glance Luna shot at Asterid was just _daring _him to groan in exasperation that he couldn't escape the assortment of games that instant.

"Consider this a sign from the gods," she whispered.

" '_Do not enter_', '_Wrong way_'?" he countered.

Hm, that crushing squeeze to his hand was as good a motivator as any to take a look around. The _Creature Catcher _games offered boxes of slightly more realistic figurines, rolled up posters and calendars, arm warmers and arm pillows, things that were more valuable and thereby harder to catch.

The third floor had more, well, videogamey entertainment. Dome-screen racing games, shoot-em-ups, and card collector games, among other things. Some players kept to themselves by nature, but the racing games of the same title were linked to each other, perfect for larger groups of friends like the group of eight currently occupying them.

Luna gravitated towards the single-player cabinets on little else but a hunch gleaned from a familiar image, and found a row of cabinets titled _Oeilvert: Maiden of Limitless Potential, _with the characters she'd seen earlier.

"I'd ask what motivated you to come to _this_ of all the other games, but I may have asked enough questions of you," Asterid said.

"I can always answer more," she offered.

"No, it's fine." He didn't fancy the fingers of his good hand being pulverized. "So, did you intend on playing?"

"I'll watch for now, and learn about the story if I can."

"Interesting." It _was_ an RPG, from the looks of it. There was a slot in the machine for the memory card from earlier. Perfect.

So, what _was _the story in the game, anyway?

The gist of it was that the eponymous heroine had lost her memory and adopted the nickname of _Oeilvert _given to her thanks to her green eyes. In those lost memories was her origin as the princess of one of four kingdoms, and knowledge of an ancient power. Different factions wanted it for their own gain, as the power could alter reality as everyone knew it. Well, it definitely explained why she was the _Maiden of Limitless Potential. _

Said maiden had to travel alongside allies new and old to reclaim her memories and save the world. Or even destroy it, depending on what the player chose. Turned out the 'Limitless Potential' applied to the story. There were a lot of things to consider, like which allies to keep or dismiss, which of them died in battle, which of them were truly the main character's friends as opposed to enemy spies, and even which kingdom she belonged to out of the four, because the choices in the game had the power to retroactively alter the backstory. It all seemed complicated at face value, and there _had_ to have been a limit to the complexity of the story, but the premise wasn't just an excellent draw for replayability, it provided the perfect vehicle for shooting whatever appeared on screen in the first place.

An average Insomnian would think of the backstory as the stuff of legends, wouldn't they? For as long as they were aware, the four nations existed in name only; there existed only 'the Empire' and 'the Kingdom'.

When it came to the city's belief in the Six, the Citadel was the last place Luna had seen that displayed the gods in visual form, and the Via had a complimentary copy of _Origin of the Stars _to each suite, but that was it. There were no rites, no paraphernalia, no votives around that she'd seen outside of those areas. If she managed to make a trip to a hospital here, any hospital, would images be there? Who would the people pray to, if they did pray? Was the Hexatheon called that, or even the Pentatheon to account for Ifrit's absence? Perhaps it was '_The God of Light, and the other ones_'.

Not a living soul had gone into the Disc of Cauthess to lay their own eyes on the Archaean, and he was currently in the Disc bearing the meteor of old and hadn't moved since he first caught it. As Lestallum exploited the power of the meteor shards, _they_ could believe in the Landforger and his direct impact if they liked, so he would have no shortage of followers in the west.

That the Kings of Lucis lived within the City had no effect on such a view; the royals had taken readily to tailored suits instead of robes, and any armor was for ceremony's sake. They had been Kings of Lucis for a time, and then across the ages metamorphosed into Kings of Insomnia only while the other regions tended to themselves. The task of the House Caelum was to safeguard the Crystal and the people within the Wall. Everything outside of the Wall being upheld was irrelevant, as long as it didn't change how they lived.

Luna couldn't hold that against the people. Such lack of faith was decades, maybe centuries in the making. She supposed that those that longed for the old days when things were more obviously fantastical could find something to like in this game.

The character select showed the titular heroine and three companions out of an undiscovered roster of dozens more characters. For now it was blonde princess Oeilvert, the brunette assassin twins Aile Noire and Aile Violette, and redheaded thief Clarine. There was a blurb about the characters' different stats, but selecting Clarine skipped right over that and dropped the character into the first stage.

There was a reasonable amount of enemies to start with. For the first minute. The screen got crowded after that, not only by the enemies but the sheer density of bullets unfurling out of them in eye-catching patterns, like watching fireworks or flowers blooming all at once… if the petals and pyrotechnics were all projectiles out to kill someone.

Asterid adopted a worry-free approach to the stage—he held down the 'shoot' button for as long as the stage length allowed and focused his attention on dodging, whether it was to twitch Clarine from side to side to avoid the closely-spaced bullets, or sending her up from the bottom of the screen to pick up bonus items the enemies would drop. It worked enough of the time that he didn't die, but he did lose some health points from 'unavoidable' attacks. The score points went up and up and up, and the catchy background music played on loop.

"So, how was he?"

Luna wasn't expecting him to start a conversation in the middle of something this intensive, but she caught onto the thread anyway. "Troubled."

"Can't fault him, I suppose. Being who he is is stressful, but the worst parts will be over. It'll be smooth sailing from there on."

"I'm curious, what part of '_being who he is_' do you consider the problem?"

"His father being who _he _is." The repetitive sounds of laser shots had to take the place of silence while he let the words settle. "Anyway, when I got the chance, I gave him a card for a rehabilitation clinic in Ausiello. It sounds worse than it is, but… it'll be good for him."

"What makes you so sure?"

"Well, that's where _I _go for counseling. Before you wonder it, I didn't directly tell him who I was seeing. That'd create a conflict of interest." There was a brief break in the stage for dialogue between Clarine and the stage's final boss, and he let it play. "I told him that it's better he finds someone that he can trust _and _that challenges his worldview when necessary."

"I'm sure you had a good reason for that."

"I did. You see, some people go to improve themselves. Others go to reinforce what they already think, even if it doesn't solve anything. There's a world of difference between thoughts being _real _and thoughts being _valid._"

"I see. I didn't realize you were so considerate for his well-being."

"That's exactly what _he_ said." The dialogue between characters was over, and the rest of the boss battle continued in mesmerizing pinwheels and spider-webbing patterns of special attacks. "I told him to think of it as a favor from a potential friend to another." Asterid allowed a few heartbeats worth of 'quiet' between them and added, "I think I annoyed him with that."

"Wasn't expecting any different," she said, as if waiting for the admission the entire time.

"Not on _purpose. _I only proposed that he tell the truth."

"I can imagine accusing someone you don't know of being a _liar_ wouldn't go over too well?"

"I understand, and I wasn't suggesting that he would lie deliberately, but the—one second…" he paused to concentrate on whittling the last of the boss's health gauge and contending with the strength boost they gained from being that close to death. The gauge finally went down to 0 and played out a dramatic death scene. "The worst lies are the ones we tell ourselves because we think agreeing with our demons will quiet them. I know what undue guilt looks like when I see it," he concluded.

"Ah… then, why didn't you say all of that before?"

"It's like I said, you two fit well with each other. You'd have more success in easing him. I gave it my best shot only to say I did."

The stage finished, and the points were tallied up and added to the leaderboard.

"Huh… third place," Asterid murmured. He'd scored over 51.8 million, and it settled onto the list with an icon of Clarine, while the 58.2 million score sat atop his at second place with an icon of Aile Noire and belonged to someone initialled 'AKI'. The first place spot with a 79.9 million score stayed exactly where it was, initialled 'PRO', and with an icon of Oeilvert.

Luna's eyebrows quirked. _Well, this is as good a reason as any why Noct would play this game repeatedly._ "It's good for a first try," she offered in an attempt at consolation to Asterid.

He shrugged. "Thanks. I'm more of a fan of flight sims, all things considered." The progress was saved into the memory card. "Did you want to check any other games out?"

She shook her head 'no'. "Just this one, it'd caught my attention when we were outside."

"Very well." There was an option to change the reward points in the game to upgrade the characters with better gear, _but_ there was a more tempting offer to continue and accrue more points and cash it all in later when they encountered a real obstacle worth powering up for. They had time to kill and tokens to spend, so they switched out, with Asterid being spectator while Luna played the game.

That their playstyles were different was the first thing he noticed. Though Clarine had decent stats and excellent mobility, he prioritized minimal movements to avoid being overzealous and dodging into an enemy attack. Luna had chosen Oeilvert for the next stage, and that her speed stat was only slightly higher than Clarine didn't matter in the _least _in terms of cautiousness. With the way Luna had Oeilvert weave all over the screen to eliminate all the oncoming foes, it wasn't hard to imagine the princess performing a graceful and deadly dance around the battlefield in a fully rendered scene.

Asterid _would've_ said something, but elected not to. Instead his eyes darted to their surroundings, and he wordlessly thought _Is anyone else seeing this? _while Luna unleashed a hail of bullets into the stage boss's face and then sauntered away from plasma balls and into the loving grasp of an attack boost. If he didn't know any better, it looked like she was able to time dodges and attacks so tightly that even when they didn't seem like viable moves in the beginning, they made all the sense at the moment of impact or lack thereof.

The high score was tallied up in the end, and Luna got the opportunity to initial REI next to it. The score that belonged to 'PRO' remained at the top spot by a slim margin, and Luna's score was nestled right under it. She hoped 'AKI' wouldn't mind that, whenever he'd return to the machine.

Asterid blinked. "Why 'REI' and not your initials?"

"Well, it'd be much like spray painting a message that I was here if I did it the proper way, wouldn't it?"

"True. Initialing aside… is there an arcade in Fenestella that you've practiced on? Be honest, now."

"No, of course not, why would you say that?" The screen was answer enough to the question, but she smiled through it. "Beginner's luck," she offered.

"_Sure_ it is. Maybe you should replay the first stage, to see if that luck holds up."

She did, and played through more stages until they were sure she'd exhausted the tiny grooves and ridges on her fingers. The roster lit up with more characters, and the commotion around them from other players in their respective cabinets suggested they were all just feeling their way around the alternate paths of the story and figuring out what happens if one character or another lost in a specific route.

"I propose we stop before this steals away our time," Asterid suggested. "As fun as it is watching you embarrass everyone else, the next thing we know, we'll have skipped tonight and be late for our other obligations." It was already impossible to tell how much time had passed since they first stepped in, and he didn't bring anything to serve as a watch.

Luna took the suggestion to heart, and saved the game. She couldn't deny that she liked the look of her initials on the leaderboards, but he two of them left the cabinet to someone else all the same. They could always come back to it.

The fourth floor was lined wall-to-wall with fighting games. _All _of the fighting games, a library of them that spanned from the current titles all the way back to classics from the time of King Mors.

There was one that caught Luna's eye and earned her confusion. "Euh… I didn't think that was allowed here," she murmured.

The 'characters' depicted fighting on screen were a Caelum King and a humanoid Magitek Mobile Suit. If the mobile suit existed in real life, it'd be tall enough to look into the floor they were currently on just by turning its head. The King armors weren't exactly slouches in the scale department either. The opponents took sword swings or fired missiles at each other, and it looked like something out of a fever dream born of too many _kaiju _films and a cram study of a history book. The game was aptly titled, _Royals Versus Imperials_.

The prince that belonged to the latter side was unfazed. "Why, what's wrong with it?"

The princess looked around briefly. As if she were divulging a secret that no one else needn't hear, she switched to Lucian to say the rest, "Wouldn't it be demeaning to have serious work be repurposed into entertainment?"

Asterid allowed a quick smile, and followed suit. "No, not at all. The military especially isn't concerned, unless some generals had their heads up their own backsides, but no one's that flexible." He chuckled, and if a drink were to materialize in his hand that instant for him to take a sip, Luna wouldn't have given it a second thought. "It's only a game, and that works both ways," he continued. "No experience of piloting a mobile suit will help a soldier win an arcade game, and none of what a gamer learns translates well into a true combat situation. The models look real, though."

The mobile suit that was currently on the screen, designation MMS HTG-0716, had the upper hand in the fight against King, what was it, Callimus? Not to be confused with Callidus _or _Camillus, both related Kings a number of generations up or down from that one on the screen.

"The model markings you see there? The two letters are for the pilot, the third letter is the type of traversal, and the numbers stand for the year it began service," he explained, "and was finally decommissioned a little over a decade ago with the push for automation. Manned mobile suits aren't in use outside of educational purposes anymore, so bothering to put it in a game in this side of the world is showing it more consideration than we'd expect."

"Educational?"

"Mm, yes, exhibition shows, museums, and the like." There was a melting fondness to his voice as he explained, "Kept for posterity, and declassified for transparency. Even children get an opportunity to pilot the old mobile suits. With guided instruction and in a controlled environment, of course. So, no, featuring it in a game is no offense. But if you want to know what the opinion is on the Kings being used as missile targets… well, that's a question for _that_ family."

She'd take his word for it, and switched back to the language of the Crown City. "Thank you for your explanation."

They let the game where it was and continued their tour of the arcade. The only place they hadn't explored was the top floor, and the gleam in Luna's eyes hinted that her curiosity wouldn't be satisfied until they did. On their way up the stairs, they passed a man in a black suit and glasses, with an earpiece and mic. He spoke into it briefly, just a number that he left the listener on the other end to make use of.

They didn't pay it much mind when they walked in.

They were back out in less than a minute.

Luna's skin was usually the color of a freshly unfurled apple blossom, but it currently held the shade of the fruit after too much sun. Asterid's face didn't take as interesting a color, but the sinking tiredness in his eyes suggested he could have gone his entire life without seeing what was on that floor.

"Crane games?" He asked.

"Crane games," she agreed.

They needed _something _to clear their minds. The relentless cuteness of the Creature Catcher games would have to do, and the suffering generated in every attempt at getting a toy was a relief in comparison to what they'd left behind. Luna proved her point from earlier; one needed to gain a feel for how the machine was supposedly 'rigged' and work _with_ the rigging, not against it, and do so with patience. The multiple tries it took to get the baby behemoth plush paid off, though they lost many tokens in the attempt, and Luna cuddled it close.

"Wonderful! I shall call you 'BB', and you'll be my minion. Together, we shall take over the world~," she said. Her attempt at an evil cackle to celebrate her acquisition failed—her laughter was less a harsh screech of nails on slate, and more like wind chimes.

_Difficult to pass yourself off as a witch when you look and sound the way you do, _Asterid thought. But he'd keep that to himself. Last thing he needed was for her to sic her minion on him to prove she was fearsome.

They stepped back out into the street, and what they no longer had in tokens they made up for in cotton filling and furs. Asterid got a chocobo plush with fiery red 'plumage', and claimed it was for protection's sake from the baby behemoth minion.

"I'll name her Amaranth," he said.

_Her? _For some reason Luna expected him to keep the plush male, not that it really mattered. What an intriguing flower to name it after, though. "The Love-Lies-Bleeding?"

He nodded. "More for the meaning than the alternate name. You're familiar with the language of flowers, as well." A statement, not a question.

"I am." She knew enough of it, yes.

"And all that is why you and your minion will fail in world conquest. Amaranth will always exist to oppose fearsome creatures and the evils they represent. She'll win by garnering the support of the people, and she can lead entire armies if necessary."

"She _will _do all of that, but hasn't done so yet_,_" Luna teased.

"Of course not yet. Right now she's making calls to action. She's already won my heart as it is."

"I see." He sounded so warm about Amaranth, it was contagious, and she smiled too.

"Now, while she's doing that… where would you like to go next?"

"Where else is there _to_ go?" It was already late, wasn't it?

"Well… earlier on, I wanted to travel that skywalk." He motioned to the nearby walkway. "I thought I saw something interesting there."

"You did? Why not say something earlier?"

"I _could, _but it would ruin the point of leaving you in charge of where we went next. Besides, we had fun in the arcade. It wasn't a loss."

"Then, to make things even wouldn't hurt either," she resolved.

They went up to the bridge, and the double layer of glass that it was made with gave it both an unworldly spaciousness and the sense that they were miniscule things trapped in a memorabilia bottle.

"_Welcome, travelers._" The voice that resounded through thin air was difficult to place. Clear as crystal, with a tinge of unreality in its fullness, like the same person speaking multiple times at the exact same time.

From a steady stream of hologram fragments, a figure formed, covered from the neck down in a long black dress with gold accents. The look matched the voice, in that the figure was close to being human but not quite: its proportions made it many heads tall and its limbs long, and the headdress it wore covered the upper half of its face. Were a humanoid crafted directly out of a devil's flower mantis, this would be the result.

"_I am called Historia,_" the figure said, "_a guide to your tour of the Crown City. Ask anything, and I shall answer._"

Both pairs of eyes darted to their surroundings to see where the hologram was being projected from, or where the sensors were that ensured the projection hadn't superimposed itself on them, then their gazes landed on each other.

Asterid was the first to break that eye contact, with a skeptical glance to the guide. _This guide must have been activated earlier by someone. _"Anything?"

"_Yes. Anything that occurs to you to ask._" Historia held a scepter in hand, and gestured toward the young man as if she could actually see him, though it was likely an illusion brought on by whatever sensors were present. "_Are there any landmarks you would like to explore?_"

The Imperial Prince followed the gesture and looked down at himself, and then out of the skywalk and to the city around them. A block of information spread out across the glass nearest him and formed into a map of Insomnia. It earned a tiny shift from him in surprise at the response speed.

"It _looks _accurate," he muttered, and Luna moved closer to him to see what was on the newly-formed map. There were distinct points marked by a crystal symbol, and Asterid tapped on the center of the map where the Citadel was situated.

"_The Citadel of the Crown City is home to the Crystal, known to all as the Star of Lucis,_" Historia narrated_. _"_It is also the seat of power to the kingdom of Lucis, and home to the protectors of the Star, the line of Kings_."

Asterid sighed. He expected something more _historical_ than that. "When was the Citadel built?"

"_The Citadel was constructed in the Ancient Era, not long after the crowning of the First King of Lucis._"

"Interesting…" Close enough. If they didn't keep a written record of things, landmark events were a close second. "And the Kings have protected the Star of Lucis ever since then… so what does the Star do for the city, _aside_ from surrounding it with a Wall?"

The guide Historia began to walk down the bridge, and her guests followed. Historia spun her scepter in her fingers, and in its wake, more holograms appeared to show a dramatized depiction of the Crystal with its light pulsing like a heartbeat.

"_The Star of Lucis is the source of power for a vast and complex network of systems throughout the city, and manages both essential and non-essential functions_. _The Kings not only defend the Star, but the way of life for all Insomnian citizens._"

"That doesn't sound right," Luna said, more to herself than anything. The Crystal was the gateway to the fount of magic that both Houses used. Its greatest purpose was in banishing the daemons, and the Wall already succeeded in that, no? How could someone implement it in such a way that ran contrary to its intended purpose, for unthinking, unfeeling creations?

Asterid seemed to sense her confusion, though not the exact reason for it, yet. "How does the Crystal maintain that 'network', from where it is in the Citadel?"

"_The Star emits energy in forms that can be visible or invisible to the human eye. The metal known as Adamantite is the most receptive to the Star's energy and can safely conduct it. Not only was Adamantite integral to the creation of the Wall, it is embedded into most construction work of the Crown City, in particular motion-sensing machinery to govern human-generated traffic._"

He allowed a brief spark of astonishment onto his features. Crossing signs and automatic doors, even buildings themselves… all _that _was being controlled by the Crystal? The city could use other sources of energy to do the same thing, could they not? Niflheim had much the same functions without a magical stone to manage them all. How invested was Insomnia in not being like its opposition? It struck him as… he wasn't certain of what to call it. But it explained what happened in the Citadel earlier, at least.

Had it functioned as he initially believed, why, it'd be _easy. _Have the city run with regular power sources, and keep the magic of the Crystal for certain people. It wasn't something he approved of, but it was _intuitive_ to own the greater share of it instead of splitting it in different directions owed to that 'complex network'. But this… it was as if Regis were invested in protecting this part of his Kingdom and no other. He could no longer be accused straight out of 'hoarding', because it was diverted into different parts of the City to begin with, into everything else _except _a more encompassing Wall that covered the Outlands.

_An excuse for why he cannot help them? _He wouldn't put it above the old man to work that way. How else could he benefit from distributing energy that way, only to cast judgments on how the people were coddled?

There had to have been a trick to this. The guide didn't even give a complete answer and went straight into mention of metals and construction. An interesting attempt at imitating a real conversation and not treating each topic as if from a vacuum; it was building its responses based off of previous questions and assuming a continued interest in the topic.

"If Adamantite is the most receptive metal, what is the most receptive non-metal that the Star's energy can be channeled through?" Historia could give the answer to that, he was sure. Regis's portrait showed the exact 'material' the Crystal could work with.

"_I am sorry. I do not understand the question._"

_What? _Asterid was too puzzled to speak aloud, but his mind was ringing. _There's no way this AI wouldn't know the answer. Less likely that no one supplied it information of the most recent King's achievements. A machine may work tirelessly with the power provided it, but it's confined to do what it's told to and nothing else. Humans make up for that in variety; King Regis provided the opportunity for his Glaives to perform the same magic that he could, and that's what separates him from King Optimus. _

_Perhaps I worded my question incorrectly. _

He cleared his throat, and tried again. "Is there anything in the world right now that both _isn't_ a metal like Adamantite, and can direct the Crystal's energy?"

"… _I am sorry. I do not understand the question._"

_Just how direct do I need to be for this?_ "I am asking, can a human wield the light of the Star?"

"_There is no conclusive answer to that question, traveler._"

"Tch." He frowned at the guide's unhelpful response. How could it be inconclusive, when the answer was obvious? "So then, this network you mentioned… how many branches of them are there? Rather, how many functions are being managed by the Crystal?"

"_The number of functions to which the Crystal channels its energy exceeds the millions, traveler._"

No exact number? "What's the ratio of functions being managed, to people living in Insomnia, then?"

"_I do not understand the question._"

This was _annoying. _How many things could be managed by the Crystal at once to account for those millions? A combination of traffic signals, motion sensors, _perhaps_ the guide itself and all the projectors it needed at different points of the bridge, the cars people used… what else counted as a function? Historia couldn't give a ratio of functions to people. But if it could give an estimate of the functions, it could feasibly give a number for people, and he could guess from there just _where _all the energy was going.

"What is the population of the Crown City?"

"... _Until recently, approximately 12 million humans were present in the Crown City of Insomnia._" The number displayed was 12,003,243.

_Recently? _It sounded as if Historia were attempting to account for the disappearance, and was at least capable of mimicking human tendency to round up or down. "What is the current population, as of this moment?"

"_As of now, there are approximately 9 million humans present in the Crown City of Insomnia_." The number rapidly counted down until it hit 9,030,102.

Almost a quarter of the population? Tragic. "And how many of those humans are using a function that's governed by the Crystal?"

"_I do not understand the question._" The last three digits ticked down from 102 to 97.

"… You're a great help." Asterid stepped away from the guide, and cast his doubts in sotto voce. "It doesn't make any sense."

"What were you hoping to accomplish?" Luna's voice was no louder. ( Another tick down from 97 to 96. )

"The guide refuses to note the King and his Glaives as using the Crystal rather than defending it. We know that people can channel its power. The guide can count in the millions, but can't count in the dozens." ( 96 to 93. ) "It gives exact numbers of people, but not exact numbers of functions. It doesn't note King Regis's accomplishment with the Glaives, and answers as if the 108th King was the only person that did _anything _worthwhile with the Crystal. It's hiding something."

"I wouldn't say it's 'hiding'."

"What would you call it, then?"

"It claimed not to understand what you asked of it; suppose you rephrased yourself?"

His brows furrowed in confusion. "Did I not do that already?"

"You have, but let me try." Luna strode forward, and offered a slight bow to the artificial intelligence. "Historia?"

"_Yes, traveler?_ _How may I assist?_"

"Can you…" Her voice faltered as she saw the newest count. The guide was adherent to an accurate count of living people, to a fault. "... Can you detect all functions managed by the Crystal at this moment in time?"

"_Yes._"

"Can you also display their locations?"

"_Indeed, I can._"

"Please do so."

"_As you wish._"

The map displayed was a bird's eye view of the city at night, a dark landscape with light in dense clusters in many areas and smatterings everywhere else, with a miniature sun at its heart. Its connection to to the clusters and the faint traces alike were trails of more lights no larger than the head of a pin.

It was a beautiful sight, and intriguing.

Luna observed the different lights, from east to west and north to south. "If you please, narrow your focus to our vicinity."

The map zoomed in to a radius of mere city blocks, for them to observe the functions in closer detail.

"Still uncountable this way," Asterid muttered, almost to himself. "What looked like one single light is a collection of smaller ones within, and the smaller ones divide even more. To count them down to the last, or to leave the subdivisions as they are and count each group as one…?" This was more intricate than what he expected. The Crystal was _everywhere. _

"Historia, how far does the Wall extend?" Luna asked.

"_The Wall supported by the Crystal protects a land area of almost three-thousand square miles._"

"Does the Wall extend to below-ground?"

"_It does not._"

Asterid glanced to Luna, then back to the map. _The distribution is meant to compensate for the Wall's shortcomings. But if everything is micromanaged by the Crystal, what's the purpose of keeping patrols so limited?_ Asterid scratched behind his head, then shrugged. "I've heard enough for one night."

Luna nodded, and gazed upon the map for a little while longer. "That should be all. Thank you, Historia. You are dismissed."

Historia nodded, and her hologram dismantled itself piece by piece.

* * *

There was still a crowd to wade through on the way back to the hotel, even with how late it was at night. The princess kept her eyes low, and not too long on any one thing. On occasion her gaze landed on the prince beside her, but rather than trust her eyes alone, she relied on the feel of his hand.

A tiny smile formed at the contact. "You're quite a fan of it," he said.

"If you prefer that I let go… there's no more need for it, I understand."

"No, it's fine. I'd even go so far as to say I've grown used to it."

When had he gained experience with this kind of contact, that it was no longer novel?

"Try not to think of it."

"Pardon?" She blinked, confused.

"What we saw on the bridge. Try not to think of it, if that's what worries you," he said.

"Thank you. I will try."

"I'm still curious, so forgive me for asking… how _did _you do that back there? You have as much a way with technology as I assume you do with other things." He wouldn't say it aloud, with no assurance that there _weren't_ other listening ears.

"We approached it differently. That's all. You asked the guide questions, used it as a sounding board to afford yourself the space to think and come to your own conclusions. But, at the end of the day, it's still only capable of one function, so I told the guide to fulfill it."

"… I see."

Where did his look of fondness come from? Maybe she was just seeing things.

Eventually their fingers unlinked, their grasps free just in time for them to not be captured in the closed circuit cameras of the Via. The casual air with which they walked suggested it was far from a concern to begin with, and in the same way, the Prince suggested he escort the Princess to her room before leaving to his own.

"Please, you don't have to go so far. We're already safe," she said. They were taking the elevator up.

"Why, that's no reason for me to be careless. It's only right that I return you to your room safe and sound, exactly as you left it. With the inclusion of one evil minion."

"Ah, not so evil anymore; I believe the plans for world domination will be put on hold." She ran her thumb along the baby behemoth's hair.

"Oh, _that's _a twist. What does he want to do, then?"

"Eat good food, and sleep well into the morning hours. He's quite lazy, now that I've asked. What of Amaranth?"

He held the red chocobo plush up to his ear, and moved her head back and forth to mimic 'talking'. "Mm… interesting…" Nod, nod. He returned to cradling the plush in his right arm. "She said she'd much rather devote her time to adventuring and exploring dungeons. It's better to make friends instead of armies."

"What wonderful pursuits." Was there such a thing as having too many reasons to smile? She hoped not.

They stepped out of the elevator cab, and on their way to the suite, Asterid said, "Your brother should be arriving soon, if he hasn't done so already. Will he take issue with your being here?"

She shook her head. "He'll show understanding. It's not impossible that I change my mind on things."

"Then I'm relieved." He did sound that way.

They stopped at the door to Luna's room.

"I suppose… this is where we part ways." She took in a breath to say more, but held it, hesitant. An exchange of words could be as simple as a 'Thank you'—she'd said it so many times already today!—and yet… "Forgive me. I'm afraid that words can't express my gratitude, this time."

A small noise of intrigue accompanied the tilt of his head. "There's nothing to forgive." He offered his hand to her, the same way he had earlier. "Perhaps action can suffice where words won't?"

She didn't hesitate to place her hand in his.

Nor did he, in the gentle grasp of her fingers, the bow he took, and the ghostlike press of his lips to the back of her hand. Even then he didn't overstay the contact, and righted himself. "It was a pleasure to spend time with you, and if anything, I have you to thank for accepting the invitation. The trip would definitely have been dreary otherwise."

If that was meant to give her her words back, it… did not work. She held the same charmingly dazed look as before, and remained so, with her quiet and rather cute expression.

He'd wait.

She did gather herself, and the silence slipped off from around her shoulders. "Well! You'd be remiss to leave on that note," she said, and lifted her Baby Behemoth plush. "It wouldn't be fair if you left without giving BB a goodbye kiss as well."

His smile was thin and not entirely there. "I'm not going to kiss that thing."

She gasped, and gave him a look of mock sadness. "You've broken his heart. He's in tears now, you see?" The behemoth plush head wiggled up and down in simulation of sniffles and sobs, while Luna helpfully provided the voice acting in mimicry of a fussy newborn. '_Ouiiiiin~, ouiiiiin~,_' the behemoth squalled.

"Oh, no. No no no no…" How rude, for a laugh to bubble up in him and interrupt his denial. "A baby behemoth couldn't possibly sound like a baby human."

"Why not? You've never seen one _or_ heard one. How would you know it _doesn't_ sound identical? Cats know how to mimic the cry and do so quite well."

"That's a cat, not a behemoth. They have a completely different physiology and everything."

"So many words, and BB still feels left out~."

Asterid crossed his arms. "Fine, I'll give him a kiss. So long as he doesn't bite."

That pleased Luna enough to hold the baby behemoth up, and she bumped its teeny snout to Asterid's nose.

A small wrinkle formed on the bridge of his nose after. "There. Does that satisfy you?"

"It certainly did him." Luna provided the happy gurgles for the baby behemoth. '_Areuh areuh~._'

"Please. I'm _certain _it doesn't sound like an infant."

"You can't prove it."

Asterid looked confident that that would change. "I can't, for now. Tomorrow will tell a different story, I hope? There's more of Insomnia to explore, as well, if you'd like to join me then."

"Tomorrow." She nodded.

Pleased with the answer, he took his leave, petting the feathers of his chocobo plush.

He waited until he was far enough that the princess couldn't hear him, then asked, "What a genial woman, isn't she?"

Amaranth didn't say anything, on account of being just a toy.

"Ah, I knew you would think so."

Tonight was productive, and tomorrow more so. The signing wouldn't be until the afternoon, so there was much time to double-check the outskirts of Insomnia to see how the people lived there. Such a shame for there to be such a division between the haves and have-nots, to save the mention of the conditions in the Outlands, but the needy would welcome any improvement to their situation no matter where it came from. That'd be the King's loss.

For now, he'd return to his room and sleep.

Or not.

Problem: the bed was already occupied when Asterid entered his room. That the intruder had commandeered the television was an added insult, the taunt of choice a repetitive click from a remote button switching to the next channel, and the next. The aftermath of the disappearances. News on the treaty signing. An advertisement for Galdin's resorts. Counseling services. A replay of the Princess's impromptu speech. A commercial for Ebony coffee. Tips on how to dress for the upcoming warm season.

The intruder ran his fingers through ash-red hair, but wouldn't achieve spiking it up more than it already was. "A shame, isn't it?" His lips curled in a contemptuous flash of teeth before his eyes landed on the Imperial Prince. "So many channels, and still nothing good to watch. What's a man to do for entertainment around here?"

Asterid met that look with one that betrayed nothing. "Don't do that."

"Do what?"

"_That_."

Silence at first, then the Glaive shrugged. "Aww, I thought redheads were your type?" He set the remote down, and a wisp of ashes curled out from the tips of his fingers and spread upward, unraveling every minute trace of him. The gloves, the black uniform, even his skin—each cinder mote reshaped into something else, someone more familiar.

"Are blondes more your flavor?" The question came from the more elegant voice of the Priestess, sitting where the Glaive had been.

The Prince was less than pleased at the sight of Lunafreya's "twin" there.

"Oh, don't look at me like that, you hurt my feelings that way," 'Lunafreya' said, hand over her heart in mock hurt, but after that show of drama, she relaxed and the cinders dismantled and reshaped themselves anew. The mirror image of the Imperial Prince rested his chin in his hands. "Did you enjoy your date? Come on, out with it," he goaded.

Asterid pinched the bridge of his nose instead. "How do you take on so many guises and _still _sound detestable in each one of them?"

"Joke's on you; I can be as subtle and amiable as I want. This is just special treatment because it pushes your buttons. And anyway, I asked you first, sooo~" He motioned with his hands.

"It went well, but that doesn't make it a date."

"Sure, whatever you say." The shapeshifter shot the prince a look as if he knew better. "And the guide?"

"I hadn't expected it to come in the form that it did, but that's not important. The information it provided was consistent with what we have so far, but I expected the guide to be more honest. It failed to understand things that it should have known of. Still, the Lady coaxed some helpful details out of it on her own." He looked away, his reflection a distraction from what he wanted to ask. "Has there ever been a daemon attack within the Wall?"

The other prince shrugged. "If there was, no one would tell you, and if there wasn't, the Kings would like to keep it that way. Isn't that sensible?"

"It is, but I would have thought you more knowledgeable on the place's history."

He made a _so-so_ motion with his right hand. "Only bits and pieces, chalk it up to checking in just once in a while."

Asterid set Amaranth down on the nightstand, and sat at the bedside. "A past incident would explain the concentration of energy, but we're no longer in a rush to learn. We had enough to start with, and we'll learn more in a month from now."

"Right, right," the replica said. "The inspections."

A nod. "They can choose to hide any inconvenient histories from the Empire, but the Lady will find out one way or another. It's in her interests for the Caelum line to be completely honest with how the Crystal is being used."

* * *

Luna watched the prince walk away, and waited seconds after he turned the corner and showed no signs of backtracking. Only then did she enter her room.

The armchair in the opposite corner was already occupied. The raven-haired Messenger sat with her hands folded upon her lap as usual, with a contented smile that reached up to her shut eyes. "I take it your trip went well?"

"It did. I've learned more than I expected to in my time here." Luna took her seat at the corner of the bed, and it wasn't long before she felt comb-teeth run through her hair. "The treaty denoted obligations on Lucis's side concerning the management of the Crystal, but as to the details, it contains summary knowledge. Anyone in the public can learn what the traveler's guide knows. That there is a spy within Insomnia at all no doubt disturbs the King, but that spy is in no position within his council."

"And if they were?"

"He wouldn't need to know that. The possibility is enough."

Gentiana's smile didn't grow any wider, and she still managed to look more proud than before.

"Even so, there's so much I've yet to know with regards to _why _everything is this way. I fear that the Treaty won't be enough to stop the outcome Insomnia is heading towards."

The map of the Crown City had been stunning in its display. The sheer number of places where the Crystal channeled its energy were as numerous as the stars above. That Prince Asterid decided he'd learned enough was understandable; even a native would be impressed enough with it and not question any more. But she couldn't ignore what else she had seen.

The convenience of the Crystal would come at a cost, and that Noctis would be shielded from the task of managing such power would have been a relief were it _only_ his life to speak of. On that map, there were a multitude of lights that were moving, ones that flickered and died out. That the power was confined to Insomnia was only the start, but if the King intended to deceive the gods of the true extent of the Crystal's use _and_ of the line of Kings being interrupted while they slept, then that defiance would exact a heavy toll. Yet the King claimed that Noctis was 'Chosen' not to take on that burden or be allowed to change it, as if this deception was minor. Even _necessary._

"I sense you will need my help for what troubles you?" The question came through in soothing tone, with a hand upon the princess's shoulder.

Luna set her own atop Gentiana's, and said nothing.

The treaty would come into effect the moment it was signed, and the soonest they could witness the way the Crystal functioned would be a month from then. But if this was as she feared, a month would be too late. She had to gain access to the Draconian before then. If the God of Light knew anything at all, it was imperative that she learn what that was, and what it would mean for the rest of the world.


End file.
